Earth's Magic (18 page)

“Earl Bedwas, I was a new
king then
. You deliberately humiliated me in front of my men. And before that, when I was the heir, you deliberately humiliated me by besting me in that wrestling match, which you no doubt rigged. And then again, remember how your misfit friends hog-tied me and threw me on the floor while they escaped? Those were
all
insufferable insults.”

Merlin’s temper bristled. “Have you forgotten all the times you bullied and insulted me and my friends?” Deliberately he forced calm on himself. “But, Nigel, we were children then. And I admit, those donkey ears were a childish trick, for which I sincerely apologize. But we are not children now. We have profoundly adult responsibilities hanging over us. We need to focus on present reality.”

“Reality?” Nigel scoffed. “What’s so real about that pale man on the horse behind you prancing around pretending he’s the real King Arthur, or you, for that matter, with your parlor tricks pretending you’re his ancient wizard Merlin?”

Merlin struggled to keep down his sizzling anger. “We are neither of us pretending, Nigel. But even if we were, would it matter? Nearly all shires proclaim Arthur as the High King of Britain. Look at the army here. It is only a fraction the size of the one that will be gathering soon. You need to look at the big picture here, Nigel. Don’t you at least want to side with a winner?”

“Oh, I am looking at a big picture, all right. A very big one. And in it I don’t see you or your phony king as the winners.”

Merlin shook his head. “You’ve been talking with Morgan again, haven’t you, Nigel? Haven’t you learned by now that the woman is the soul of treachery? She’s the queen of lies. She’ll use you as long as it suits her, then discard you or kill you.”

“Who I talk with or who I believe is none of your business, boy. But my people are concerned, I will admit. The prospect of certain alliances will no doubt trouble them until they learn of the benefits. So, yes, I should attempt to be fair, shouldn’t I? I will talk to that upstart king of yours. And, anyway, it would be best to avoid open warfare at this stage, would it not? Go fetch him.”

Merlin hoped that over the distance and the rasping of the morning’s stiff breeze, Arthur had not been able to hear Nigel’s insulting arrogance. No point in beginning a summit meeting with all tempers already on the boil. It turned out once Merlin returned to him that Arthur had indeed picked up very little of the exchange. When they rode back toward Nigel, Merlin kept deferentially to the rear, though he still carried the white flag of truce.

As they neared him, Nigel took the banner of Glamorganshire from his banner carrier and gestured for the boy to fall back.

When they were ten feet apart, Arthur reined in his white stallion and nodded. “Greetings, King Nigel. I trust that you and I can now at last discuss our future.”

“We can,” Nigel answered, “and here is my part of the discussion!”

With that, he raised the spear-topped banner pole and hurled it at Arthur. Merlin hastily began a protective spell, but too late. The King’s great warhorse reared up, and the spear instead of striking Arthur, sliced through a foreleg. With a scream, the stallion toppled sideways, throwing the King to the ground.

Hurling Nigel from his own horse with a blast of purple energy, Merlin leaped from his horse and ran to his king. Already Arthur was staggering to his feet staring at the writhing body of his beloved warhorse. The leg had been nearly severed, and blood was spurting over the dry ground. With a cry of rage, Arthur yanked out his sword and ran toward Nigel, who, looking stunned, was just struggling to sit up.

“No, Arthur!” Merlin yelled as he skidded over the grass, changing course. “Don’t kill him! Don’t kill their king with all his people watching. You need
their
loyalty if not this scoundrel’s.”

By now, Arthur was standing above Nigel holding his great sword over his head. Slowly, painfully he lowered the sword. “Single combat,” he said between gritted teeth. “We’ll settle this by single combat.”

“Gladly,” Nigel said, scrambling to his feet. “But keep your boy wizard from meddling.”

Arthur nodded. “Merlin, stay out of this. This is something we need to settle, king on king.”

Merlin walked back to his horse, watching with apprehension. Nigel had been the biggest and roughest of the older boys at Llandoylan School, and now he had filled out to look like a two-legged bull. His bulging muscles proclaimed constant training, and Merlin knew that Nigel was also an extremely dirty fighter.

Nigel now had his own sword out, and the two combatants were circling warily around each other. Merlin was vaguely aware of onlookers hurriedly advancing on them from both sides, and for a moment, he glimpsed Heather kneeling beside the King’s stricken horse. But he turned again and stayed focused on the match, knowing that no one would dare violate the rules of single combat and interfere.

Nigel struck first with the swiftness of a snake, but Arthur was ready for him. Sword clashed on sword, as the opponents spun, dodged, and clashed again. Nigel moved with surprising grace for a man so large, but as minutes passed, Arthur’s two lifetimes of battle experience began to show. Gradually he hammered Nigel back, blocking every thrust and raining down blows so swiftly that Nigel was barely able to counter them. Then, in one swift, intricate move, Arthur dodged a slicing blow, spun sideways, and swept up his sword with such strength that Nigel’s own sword flew from his hands as he himself stumbled to the grass.

Standing over him, legs firmly apart, Arthur lowered the tip of his sword to Nigel’s throat. “By the rules of combat, I could end this now,” he said with icy calm, his voice loud enough to reach those nearby. “But I need a peaceful, united Britain if we are to prevail against our enemies. Dissension is what they thrive upon. If you will swear allegiance to me, as High King of Britain, and commit your forces to join with ours, I will spare your life and welcome you as an ally. Do you so swear?”

From a distance, Merlin studied Nigel’s sweat-smeared face. He couldn’t miss the flash of smoldering hatred. But quickly the fallen man composed his features. In a ragged voice, he said, “I do so swear. You have prevailed. Whatever your true origin, you are clearly a prodigious warrior and leader of men. I will for the time put aside past grievances, if you will do so as well, and declare my loyalty.”

Listening, Merlin felt insincerity bubbling through that statement, particularly as it was from a man who would treacherously attack a fellow king under a flag of truce. But if this impasse could be temporarily settled and the forces of Glamorganshire joined with their own, it was worth the extra vigilance this “alliance” would require.

Now people from both sides crowded forward and escorted their kings back. Arthur ignored those trying to steer him toward his tent and went to where Heather and another older healer were nursing his stricken horse. The animal looked up at the King with wide, fear-filled eyes.

Arthur knelt. “Gavyn, my great, brave hero,” he whispered. Then he looked at Heather. “Will he live?”

“He’s nearly lost his leg, and a lot of blood,” Heather answered. “But we have stopped the bleeding now and eased some of his pain.”

The other healer nodded. “He may live, but I fear, Sire, that he will never carry you into battle again.”

For a moment, Arthur stayed kneeling, a calming hand resting on the horse’s quivering flank. Then he stood. “That matters little, as long as he lives. I will miss him in battle, but he has saved my life many a time and has earned a gentle retirement.”

Sadly, Arthur, with Margaret now at his side, walked back to their camp. Merlin followed more slowly. A thought had entered his head, though he knew it was too early to voice it. Arthur would need a brief time of mourning first. But it would have to be brief. Dire events were under way, and the Summer Solstice was fast approaching. The High King of Britain could not long be without an appropriate mount.

What could be more appropriate, more awe-inspiring than to have King Arthur mounted on a fiery red horse-sized dragon?

F
ATES

“Y
ou’re going where?” Arthur asked incredulously as he and Merlin sat two days later at a folding table in the King’s tent. The remains of breakfast lay on plates between them. “Africa? I’m not even sure I know where that is. Somewhere south of here.”

“Way south. Across Europe and the Mediterranean. Back in our days, there were some Roman colonies there.”

The King frowned. “Merlin, you of all people know the importance of this coming battle. I was hoping to have you at my side then. But if you say it is essential that you traipse off to Africa, I believe it must be.”

“It
is
essential. I wish it wasn’t. But the outcome of what happens on Salisbury Plain may be determined by what I have to do in Africa. And I will make every effort to be back by the Summer Solstice.”

“So how will you be traveling? By dragon?”

Merlin shook his head. “There’s not time even for that. I’m going to try to find my way through the Otherworld passages. Though just finding a suitable entrance will prove a challenge. As soon as Troll returns from whatever mission you’ve sent him on, I’ll ask his help.”

Arthur smiled. “Troll actually has been a great asset in keeping communications open with Avalon. They seem to have a lot vested in this coming battle as well. I believe we will have a contingent from there fighting with us. The Eldritch can be formidable warriors when the mood strikes them. And there are hints that other parts of Faerie will be engaged too, though possibly some on both sides.”

“And you’ve been hearing good reports from Welly and Takata on their mission to the shires?”

“Yes. We should have sizable forces joining us from most shires. Those two are quite a pair, and they’ve formed a rather grudging bond with Blanche, it seems.”

Merlin toyed with a last crust of bread. “And how are you bonding with your dragon?”

Arthur groaned. “Old man, I could throttle you for that one. Riding a dragon, indeed! But once Red heard your suggestion, he practically burst out of his scales with pride. And of Blanche’s brood, he definitely is the most ‘regal,’ you might say.”

Merlin smiled. “True.
Snooty
and
arrogant
also might apply.”

“Also true, but he’s young yet. The saddlemakers are fitting him out now. I want to be able to use both hands for weapons while I’m riding him and not cling to his scales like a scared kid—which is what I’ve felt like on the few practice flights we’ve tried.”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Merlin said as he stood up. “As soon as Troll gets back, could you send him to me? Frankly, I’d like to put this trip off—simply because it terrifies me. There are so many unknowns, and I’m working with only the vaguest instructions. But if you can ride a fire-breathing dragon, I suppose I can—”

“Get out of here, Merlin,” Arthur laughed. “You’d think I’d be immune to your bullying and manipulation by now.”

“Not ‘bullying and manipulation,’ Sire. It’s always well-seasoned advice.”

“Humph!”

The army camp was being packed up around them when Merlin sought out Heather. He found her sitting on a rock at the edge of the camp, chewing absently on a braid and staring, seemingly at nothing. Quietly he sat beside her and contented himself with just looking at her face, trying to memorize every plane and dimple. After a few minutes, she shook herself and swayed slightly. She was surprised to find Merlin’s steadying arm suddenly around her.

“Oh, Earl. I’m getting better at this, but it still makes me dizzy when I snap back like that. I was just talking with Kiwilah in North America. She wants to join us here on the solstice. Of course, she can’t—she’s just a baby still—but I think some of the spirit creatures from there may be coming. It’s like all the other places. They sense that battles are looming at home, yet some feel that the one here will be pivotal. All my contacts also think that some forces from their Otherworlds may try to make their way here as well, though most will be needed on their home fronts.”

“That may be what Morgan and her like are counting on,” Merlin said, “trying to sow confusion and getting us all to spread our resources too thin. Another reason why I hate the idea of leaving now.”

Heather opened her mouth to say something, but Merlin raised a hand. “And before you start arguing again, this is precisely why you
cannot
come with me. You are needed to keep in touch with all those places and coordinate what you can. You’re the only one here who can do that.”

“I could do that while traveling with you.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I have no idea what this will be like, except that it will almost certainly be dangerous. And I do not want to put you in that danger. Period. End of argument.”

She looked at him steadily. “Earl, you can be quite a bully, you know that?”

He sighed. “Arthur seems to think the same.” He grabbed her hand, running a finger along the bronze bracelet on her wrist. “But when it comes to protecting people I care about, I’ll bully all I have to.”

“Well, just you protect yourself, all right? Because
we
care about
you.”
She frowned. “I wish I at least had contact with someone in the part of Africa you’re going to. But the only one I know is, I think, much farther south.”