The First Technomancer (8 page)

Lady Igraine brushed by Merlin, took a moment
to nod.

Those eyes! Gold speckled
eyes. More than her strange eyes, a sense of force emanated from
Igraine. A remark Kheira had made when they first met returned to
the forefront of Merlin's thoughts.
However vampires, elves, and angels do.
Do exist she had meant... Unbidden, an encyclopedia entry,
hardwired into his brain came upon Merlin as if a vision. Did
Igraine know what she was? Data regarding Vril, and Annunaki
history, automatically compiled a search for the answers he needed.
Facts solidified before his eyes. All humans were decent from
Annunaki, others more so than some. In Annunaki, like all societies
splintered, began to specialize. As tribes they had ruled over
Earth. The Mesopotamia – the original colonists, those in the
North, whose chieftain echoed now as Odin and Zeus... They tinkered
with themselves, in an attempt to become more like their Vril
progenitors. The angels, and vampires Merlin could account for. But
who were the elves?
Ah there it
was
, Tuatha Dé Danann. Albino, ritually
scarred, even pointy eared. Moreover, gold speckled eyes. A
subtribe of Annunaki, result of genetic alteration, who had come to
live in burrows here on the British Isles, where they were honored
as gods. Igraine was descendent of these Tuatha Dé Danann, clearly
she carried at least one aspect of this tribe within
her.

The wizard took the offered mug of mead
Igraine had proffered to him, let her move on with her hostess
duties without comment. He went out onto a rampart to take in the
night. Tonight would have been so much better had Kheira
stayed.

Later, much later, among sounds of knights
still carousing, under a newborn sun, Merlin opened his eyes at a
long table, waking from a mead filled stupor. Had he drunk that
much? It usually took more than most men could drink to topple him.
Or, more likely the mead, combined with lack of rest had done him
in. From across the room he witnessed a sight which gave his heart
a jump. Uther, the King, ogled Igraine, who seemed not have slept
herself, yet did not look the worse for wear. Oh he had been
gentlemanly, flirty in the manner only a warrior might be. but
Merlin could see, feel, unbridled lust rise in the High King who
had become enchanted by those eyes. This would not do...

Going from the table Merlin went for a walk
to clear his mind. At the moment he considered bludgeoning Uther
over the head with his staff. A tool of magic, it also served to be
a very practical weapon. No, that wouldn't break him of his lust.
Uther would only become more of the unyielding wall of a man which
nature had fashioned him to be.

“Can I see your owl?”

Pulled from his ruminations, the wizard found
himself confronted by a child, a young girl, of six. “More gold
speckled eyes.” One of Gorlois, and Igraine's three daughters. A
mini copy of her mother, oval face, an aristocratic nose, the sort
she'd have no problem looking down upon her lessers or suitors
with. Copper hair, but most telling, Tuatha Dé Danann eyes. “What's
your name?”

“Morgana.”

Already, he could see great
power in this one, Merlin perceived it as pulsing light which
culminated in the trunk of this child's body. It needed only be
harnessed and released. His father, and Kheira had spoken of a
device which might allow him to make more like himself. That shall
bear further experimentation. Merlin had a notion Shaitan might
already have designed such a mechanism based on his very
DNA.
I could turn her into a
goddess
,
to no
longer be just one
, he thought. To the
child he said. “The one they call LeFey.”

“LeFey, it’s what they call grandpa
Anlawd.”

“Maiden name? Yes, yes of
course!”
Ah yes
,
he thought seeing the truth of it:
Anlawd
Vledig, Igraine's father, a scion of the Tuatha Dé Danann. None
know where exactly he's gotten himself either...
Merlin began to laugh. Not just a little chuckle,
right there in the hallway he tossed back his head and belly
laughed, a kind of outlet he had not for centuries experienced. The
answer plain, for everyone to see. “You're a very special little
girl.” Merlin knelt so she could get a better look at Vrroch.
“Ancient power stirs in your blood.”

[Castle Pendragon, Mallerstang Dale, Cumbria.
Six Months Later]

A mongrel design, both barbarian hill fort,
and Roman watchtower, Castle Pendragon, beside the river Eden had
become the capital of Britannia. In a large chair within its
reinforced ramparts, Uther sat at the table which he had carved
from the Sefirot Tree with his own two hands. Knights, pages, and
advisers all around him, provided the needed oil which helped him
best run his kingdom.

A mania however festered in the King. Even as
he set his empire to right, restoring order, correcting many of
Vortigern's failures, and tyrannies... distraction plagued Uther
Pendragon. Not a single day went by that he did not think of her.
Igraine, and those bewitching golden eyes. Food lacked all taste,
courtesans, of which he had his choosing, many the most beautiful
woman in the land, were but average beside the memory of
Igraine.

“Where is Merlin?” Uther asked of his Lord
Chamberlain.

“Locked away in his lair sire.”

Uther rubbed at his beard, though his
thoughts returned often to Igraine, he had a sense that his most
trusted chief adviser, not to mention, very good friend had become
preoccupied. Merlin had not come to counsel in many weeks.

On a far wall, a mural dominated the room.
Merlin had, with pigments, and his own two fingers painted a rough,
nearly abstract likeness of Kheira. The simple pigments did not do
her illuminated skin justice, but he captured her big, dark eyes,
glossy pink lips and depicted her rich black hair flowing about her
face accurate enough. The painting was the first thing one
witnessed on entry to Merlin's chambers, even when he sat in total
darkness, the wizard kept the image lit by ingeniously placed
candles, which produced an effect of kindling the pigmentation in
the manner of her luminance.

That is what Uther confronted when he entered
a lightless dwelling, though not unoccupied, as indicted by sparks
which flew from a generator that Merlin had rigged up. Not that
Uther Pendragon had a faint notion of what electricity might be, it
had not been officially discovered yet. “What are you building my
friend?”

Merlin, spoke, but did not
move from his workbench. “My future.” He enigmatically responded,
hunched over an object, at first glance, what might have been a
half dollar sized broa
ch. A runic aegishjalmur, or "helm of
awe" set within a metalwork ring, that housed multicolored fluid,
fed from tubes that led from bottles which bubbled and seethed with
magical concoctions. “I just need to figure out how to keep it
alive...” He pointed, but did not gaze up toward his sparking
generator. “That only temporarily does it. I must have a divine
source of power I think.”

None of this meant a thing to Uther. “You've
not been to counsel in days.”

“Things go smooth, nonetheless your
Majesty.”

“Yes the kingdom prospers, but that's not my
point.

As if he remembered an important fact, Merlin
finally glanced over at King Uther, a strange chaotic expression on
his face. Emerald eyes darted toward Caliburn, ever sheathed at
Uther's hip.
Vril swords use a crystalline filament for a blade.
But what energizes such a weapon? Do I have such a furnace within
my own body?
“Is there anything I can help with?”

“Not as yet. I was just concerned for your
absence.

“I'm touched by your worry.” Merlin said to
Uther, but his mind kept returning to the workings of his Vril
technology. He'd taken nanobots from himself to make the Vriljiin,
yet they would not live independent from him, at the moment he
doubted very much the device would become a genesis for another
technomancer.
Won't work, unless the nanobots thrive in a new
host.

Uther, waited expectantly. The King could
feel his wizard teetered on the cusp of an idea.

Neither man got a chance to break the moment
of silence, as Lord Chamberlain Fendrel interrupted the meeting.
“Your Majesty!” Called out Tyrian Fendrel. “Majesty, Lady Igraine
is here!”

All thought of Merlin's odd behavior pushed
aside for Uther.

As for Merlin, Lord Chamberlain Fendrel's
news brought the wizard back from his delirium in a manner unlike
no amount of friendly cheer could have. Fear, fear of a land in
turmoil returned Merlin to the moment. How quickly he, and Uther's
roles had reversed.

“Constantinople?” King Uther spat.
“Constantinople?”

Merlin waited, arms folded, watched the
exchange between Uther, and Igraine, who made quite a lovely sight,
dressed as she was in a body hugging maroon sheath which left
little to the imagination as to what lay underneath.

“Yes my King.” Igraine almost whispered.
“Gorlois has sent me to inform you that we... our family will be
relocating in a matter of days. He wants to explore the world.”

“I won't allow it. Cornwall is a sworn
vassal!”

It had of course been meant as a trap, Merlin
could see it. Cornwall was no explorer, journeying to far ends of
the Holy Roman Empire not in his ken. This whole moment but a test,
as well as a taunt for Uther, as if he were saying:
I have what
you desire, and can easily take it away
. But more so to see
what action Igraine might take. To her credit the Lady Igraine
passed her husband’s trap, as she let slip no sign of attraction
toward the High King, though, clearly a mutual interest existed.
Maybe not in the manner Uther would have desired.

Either resentful that he did not become High
King, or more likely aware of Uther Pendragon's feelings toward his
wife, which were one of the more well-known secrets these days,
spoken in hushed whisper throughout the realm. Feeling like a
cuckold had driven the Duke of Cornwall to push the issue. Had
Merlin a say, he would have warned Duke Gorlois to let sleeping
dogs lay. But you reap what you sow.

Delivering her Lord, and husband's message as
she had been instructed, Igraine made her way back to Tintagel in a
timely manner. She left with Uther in a frenzy, raging the halls of
his castle. It all had been a gamble on Gorlois's part. Uther might
have simply kidnapped Igraine then, and there. Perhaps if he had,
things might have ended in a much different way?

Instead Gorlois held up, protected in
Tintagel, with King Uther three days later launching what seemed to
many, an unprovoked attack, intent to take Igraine once and for
all. Lopsided were the odds. Uther could not raise forces to
assault a liegeman who merely meant to protect his wife's honor.
The High King stood alone. Just as the Duke knew he would be,
isolated.

Fingers rubbed at his temple, the stress of
the last few days began to catch up on him. How to salvage the
situation? Uther, off waging an unjust war. At least he had the
presence of mind to leave Caliburn in his care, lest the Lady of
The Lake view his actions as oath breaking. Not that Merlin had
been in the mood to examine it. He'd not dare tinker with, or
dissemble it either. That could make Kheira mad. He would just need
to get his hands on another Vril sword.

Odd how stress worked, forced the mind to
recall that which it had long since disregarded or locked away.
Only in these recent days did he remember that he had not been born
Merlin Emrys – but rather, a very long time ago, he had entered
life as
Ambakhun Tan,
son of a Persian woman, and an exiled
Vril. Funny, Kheira had never even called him by his given name.
Did she know it? When they first met, she had seemed quite aware of
who he had been.

Yet another realization dawned on him. He did
not choose Uther. The One did, and had used It's shadow to deliver
the message. Only now did he see it for what it all had been. The
One had meant to make things plain. It, rather than he were in
charge. Blaise had wanted him as a servant, and in Uther's
kingmaking, he had been just that.

What to do? What to do? The technomancer
fret.

In this agitated state Uther found his
wizard, walking without purpose about his chambers, upon returning
to Castle Pendragon in order to fetch Merlin himself, and to ask of
him a boon. “Merlin I need your aide.” The mania bled through King
Uther's words.

“Oh yes, I can imagine...”

King Uther nodded at Kheira's lit image. “I
know, you understand what it’s like old man.”

“Old man?” Merlin laughed. “I'm no older then
yourself.”

“Don't try it. You might fool others, but I
know you're far older, and more than human, despite the body you
wear. And I also know other things about you my wizard.”

“You do my King?” Merlin gripped his
staff.

“Yes, I know you're in love with her!” Uther
pointed at the painting. “Your water sylph, that it rips you apart
to not be with her, wherever the good Lady of The Lake might
reside, you desire above all else to be with her. Yet you cannot
be. I saw it in your eyes the day she presented Caliburn to me. So
I implore you, as a man in love. Help me get Igraine.”

Calculations, DNA sequences sped across
Merlin's eyes. Things only he could see, yet his eyes seemed to
flash. Igraine's unique linage, Uther's metal. “Yes, the pair of
you would make interesting children...” A plan began to form.
Time to use my father's spell of luck. The odds must be in my
favor.
“I'll help you get Igraine, but you must swear,” he
reached for Caliburn, Uther appeared to fear Kheira's fury. “Swear
that which is born from your lust shall be mine.”