The Last Guardian Rises (The Last Keeper's Daughter) (5 page)

“Why?” Merlin screamed out in frustration.

You know why, his rational mind answered.

“I won’t do it,” Merlin answered himself.

Fury overtook him, at his impotence, his fear, his distaste for the way his skin felt on his flesh. Torching the bowl which held his blood, he watched as the link that kept his corporeal body in this time burned. Now there would be nothing to bring him back, he could be lost for hours, weeks, or even centuries in another place that never was or never would be. There were an infinite number of possibilities which could warp the future.

Near collapsing, he tied a rope to a ceramic pot full of water, hoisted it above his head and tied off the rope end at the wall. He placed a full candle in a holder directly underneath the rope and lit it. It should give him a few hours, and, if he were lucky, burn through the rope, dropping the water on him and bring him back to this time.

He chalked out a circle on the floor and sat cross legged in the center. “You want me, you whores that suck and ride my body, take me, and I will not fight you.” The tattoos on his arms sprang to life, swirling, pulsing and growing until they reached out their black tentacles and traced new patterns on his hands, his chest, and tentatively reached for the sorcerer’s face. “Yes, I am yours now, take me,” he said reassuringly.

Merlin was now darkness, shorn of form, with no feelings of regret, or fear, or woe, only the ever present dark which pressed down upon him.

“Why have you disobeyed me?” said a voice he knew better than his own. “You are not safe here.”

“My teacher, I cannot see.” Merlin longed to feel the reassuring hand of Bleheris on his shoulder. “I am worthless to the king.”

“Pffst, you were always a difficult boy, afraid of the dark, the very thing that bore you.”

“My mother bore me, not the dark.”

“You see, even now, difficult. Your mother was nothing more than a big set of tits. She knew nothing. She was nothing. She–”

“My mother is not why I’m here.”

“Always difficult,” Bleheris said.

Even though Merlin could not see his old teacher, he knew he was shaking his head.

“No, you are here because you miss your visions.” Bleheris said it in a patronizing tone. “I told you long ago this would happen.”

“You did, but not now, not when everything is changing and the magic returns. I need my visions. The Brotherhood has grown dangerous. Perhaps they have learned how to manipulate the gates. How will we defeat what walks through them?”

“Stop whining,” Bleheris snapped. “The guardians. Preserve them.”

“I don’t need riddles now. Show me what you mean.”

“I cannot.” Bleheris’ voice was sad. “You will have no more visions. Use your magic, ahh, now that is important. Use it to your advantage.”

“But how will I know which path to take? Without my visions I’m blinded to the future. How can I give counsel?”

“There it is, the real reason you are here with me. You fear that you are no longer needed, worthless, as you say, to the king. I have loved and watched over you as father to son. You’ve known the day would come when your visions would leave, but you refused to acknowledge it, as you feared the dark so now you fear the darkness of all beings to know what the future will hold. It was always a crutch and never your true gift.”

Sorrow flooded into Merlin. “I cannot let you go.”

“You must! To tread here again will bring madness. The darkness has its hold in you now.” Bleheris comforted Merlin with words. “There will never be another as you. The true cost of greatness is loneliness and you have endured that burden more than most. I am always with you, reach inside yourself and you shall find me. Go now, and know that there will come a time when we will walk together again.”

Blinding brightness, brighter than two suns exploding, seared through Merlin’s mind. Bleheris must have sent him back, fearing that he’d get lost.

The clay jug filled with water crashed down onto his head. Merlin fell back against the wood floor and lay there, dazed. When he felt able he sat up and felt the lump on the back of his head. It didn’t matter; he’d spoken to Bleheris again. It was enough to sustain him, enough to get him through his constant doubt. He got to his feet too soon; lightheaded, he grabbed the table for support. He should eat and shower before going to see Krieger, but there wasn’t enough time. He laughed. How ridiculous. Krieger and he had nothing but time.

The rain outside forced him to use the underground tunnel which connected his tower to the garage. He was almost to the elevator doors that would take him into the castle when Lily, Liam and two other vantors stepped out.

“You look like shit,” Liam said, and snapped his fingers. A slightly built – for a vantor – fair haired man to Liam’s left stepped forward. “Rohm, help him.”

“I don’t need help,” Merlin said, just as his knees gave out. Rohm effortlessly held him upright and turned his nose away from him. His unwashed body must smell ten times worse to the vantor.

“Are you sick?” Lily asked, and reached out her hand to him.

The dark magic which resided in what most everyone thought were mere tattoos sprang down his arm and spread blackness down to his fingertips. Lily snatched her hand back. A split second later, Liam had her tucked behind his body.

He should have placed his hands in his pocket, but he was awed by the power that coursed through him, and the sudden realization that the dark magic responded to Lily. Would it have moved from his body to hers?
Madness
! It was what he’d been warned against. Why he’d used as little of the power of the darkness as possible. Once the balance was tipped, there would be no going back.

Fight it!
Bleheris screamed inside his mind. It was what he needed to hear to regain himself.

Rohm shifted beside him. “I don’t need to be held up,” Merlin groused.

“You do,” Liam said. “Rohm will make sure you get where you’re going.”

Merlin felt like he should argue, but he was too tired. Forcing back the darkness had weakened him further. “And where are you off to in this storm?”

Lily stepped out from behind Liam. “To see Martha before I leave.”

So she is going to the council meeting, while I am not.
“Of course the king would not leave you behind.” The bitterness in his tone felt sour on his tongue. “Come on, I don’t have all night.” Rohm, dutifully, led him into the elevator.

He leaned against the railing and studied Rohm. His respect for their kind had grown since they’d come to court. He knew this Rohm was frightened of him, but he’d still assisted him. Most of the vantors kept to themselves, but this one he’d seen often when he was off duty. There was boyishness about his appearance. “You like it here.”

“We all do.”

“Then why don’t you associate more with the Others?” He didn’t really care, but it kept his mind from other thoughts.

The doors opened in the great hall. Rohm offered his arm.

“I need to see the king.” Merlin realized he didn’t know where the king was. He always
knew
.

“His study,” Rohm said.

He groaned. It was a long walk through the great hall and down the east corridor. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Rohm walked slowly to accommodate him. “I was the last wolf taken by the queen’s men.” Rohm cleared his throat. “She liked to personally break the will of the captured wolves, but by the time I arrived she’d bored of toying with us. Liam helped me to accept my fate and it made the transition easier for me.”

The transition, Merlin snorted. The mad Russian queen had the werewolves drink vampire blood and let her coven of witches weave their magic on them until they were neither vampire nor werewolf but some unholy combination of the two.

“And I have Glenda,” Rohm continued.

Yes, he had seen Rohm with the newly arrived ouled.

“Wait up,” a voice called from behind them. Merlin turned to see Detective Hunter jogging down the hall towards them. “You’re a hard man to find.” Hunter was chosen by the Elder to join the supernatural soup of Krieger’s kingdom. In his former life, before he knew about the existence of the Others, he’d been a detective in London.

Why had the Elder picked him? It was a question Merlin had asked himself for months. There were moments when he would see just a hint of Other about Hunter, so faint that afterwards he’d question if it was really there or if he was willing himself to see something, anything to explain why the Elder had deemed Hunter important. Merlin’s gaze drifted down to the Elder’s ring on Hunter’s finger, glowing like an incriminating eye at him, until Hunter noticed and tucked his hand into his pocket.
I need to face this. I need to tell him.

“I know you’re busy with…” Hunter looked down the hall to the two royal guards standing in front of the king’s study. “… king business. Look, I don’t want to waste your time, just wanted you to know that Meirta and I need to change our travel plans.”

Merlin’s thoughts tonight were capricious and refused to be tamed and though he heard Hunter’s words he found himself looking down the wide hall, past the masterpieces precisely aligned on the walls like parade soldiers and over the Persian carpets that kept their footsteps from echoing, until his eyes landed on Krieger’s personal guards who were standing still as statues outside the study doors. They were the king’s constant companions, menacing, with eyes sharp and penetrating and ever vigilant as a hawks. Krieger had once explained to Merlin that these two men had been with him since he was a boy. They’d taught him how to fight, protected him in battles, and helped him to survive into manhood. After Krieger became vampire, he found and turned them. Did he ask if they wanted to continue on with him as vampires? Or had Krieger demanded? Of everyone, himself included, Merlin thought the king trusted them the most, though Merlin had never heard their names.

Hunter’s awkward cough brought him back to the present moment, but just before he let go of his contemplation he thought of Bleheris who even in death still remained by his side. He knew, sooner than he wanted, that would be his lot, to be the silent and invisible voice behind the man.

“Why?” Merlin asked automatically.

“It’s probably nothing, but there was a cave-in of a mine in Australia. The miners are all dead. Some of the reports suggest they were exsanguinated. Instead of flying over to London with you and the king, I thought Meirta and I would detour to Australia first.” Hunter shuffled his feet. “I mean, those artifacts of Dr. Toolley’s aren’t going anywhere and this Australia incident…well, it could be our rogue.”

Rogue. Merlin liked the term Hunter had come up with to identify the dark force they felt. The force that may have moved between the gates.

“Tell me, do you truly believe in the gates?” Merlin liked Hunter, and was genuinely curious to hear his response. As he expected, Hunter guarded his expression and retreated behind it. “Never mind.” Merlin was too fatigued to play with the detective. “I will not be attending council, but I will convey your change of plans to the king.”

“Great.” Hunter turned and took a few steps. “Thanks,” he mumbled and left.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” Rohm asked as they resumed walking.

It didn’t take long until they were standing outside Krieger’s study. The king’s guards stared above their heads and showed impassivity at Merlin needing help.

“No.” Merlin steadied himself. “Go on to your Glenda.”

“The king does not want to be disturbed,” a guard said.

Merlin ignored the guard and instead watched Rohm saunter down the corridor looking like he had not a care in the world.

“Let him in,” Krieger’s voice boomed from behind the closed doors. Which were immediately opened by the guards. Merlin scraped up enough energy to walk inside.

“Anything?” Krieger asked, with his back to him.

“Something that might be helpful.”

Krieger spun around and took in his unkempt appearance. “You look like shit.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Krieger lifted an eyebrow. “The night air will do you good.”

“The storm,” he protested.

“Has passed over the mountain.”

Merlin struggled to match Krieger’s long strides as they walked through the gardens of Stoke. His shoes were quickly soaked through from the wet grass, and the spring blooms blown from the cherry trees stuck to the tops like confetti tossed at a parade.

“The Others are nervous,” Merlin said.

Krieger didn’t acknowledge his words, but kept an even pace until he reached the path which led to Cherie’s cottage and the rest of the ouleds.

“I’ve heard there are some interesting new additions,” Merlin said, thinking of Rohm’s Glenda.

“Why are they nervous?” Krieger asked.

When Merlin didn’t answer, Krieger stopped and looked down at him.

Merlin fought back the dizziness. “The Brotherhood’s attacks are becoming more prominent, more difficult to hide. Some fear the curtain of secrecy will be pulled back, and the humans will learn of their existence. They feel helpless.” The number of Others living at Stoke had more than tripled since the Elder’s disappearance, death. News reached him daily of more traveling to the king’s domain. “A council meeting is unusual. They worry about the outcome.”

Krieger laughed. “The Others complain worse than old men. The Bast sent a petition about the Dragon Men, who complained about the vantors, who want more room to hunt.” He brushed aside the thought along with a lightning bug. “We need to think about creating territories for each group.”

“I’ve already prepared a map with my recommendations.” Each group had their own prejudices. It would take time for them to adjust to a new system.

“Good. Borders make good neighbors.” He gave Merlin a sly look. “But first let them learn to live in peace amongst each other, as much as possible.”

A garden fae walked past, pushing a wheelbarrow towards a grouping of rosebushes that had been damaged by the storm. Merlin noticed the vicious scar running crosswise from his forehead over his nose and down his chin until it disappeared underneath his coat. Certainly an Other had done the deed, as the humans were enchanted by the fae’s beauty. The gardener was still handsome, still alluring, but had been forever changed.