Earth's Magic (7 page)

W
AR
C
OUNCIL

“W
ell, are you going to tell me what happened to you?” Heather asked impatiently when she and Merlin were again standing in the courtyard. The sundial in the center of the yard cast the faintest of shadows and showed that there was another hour before the war council the King had just called.

“Yes,” Merlin said, looking around and then feeling almost as foolish as he’d thought Troll had seemed being worried about eavesdroppers. “But not here. Let’s go walk down by the lake.”

Merlin didn’t say anything until they had reached the pebbly shore. Then he sat on a large rock and stared out over the calm gray water, its surface flecked with lingering slabs of ice. The water didn’t stay calm for long. Rus, Sil, and Goldie had followed them down to the lake and were soon cavorting in the shallows, chasing each other and their own tails.

“Well?” Heather said, sitting beside him.

Merlin stared down at the wave-lapped pebbles. Then he shook his head. “It’s like I have to reorganize my whole mind, everything I’ve ever thought about myself.”

He looked at her but couldn’t seem to pull up any words.

“All right,” she prompted. “You said your grandmother gave you that bracelet. But surely your mother’s mother died
centuries ago. Do you mean that you just discovered some old bequest?”

“No. Not my
mother’s
mother, my father’s. And I just met her, or at least I just discovered who she was.”

Heather was staring at him, speechless.

“I’ve told you that my father was Eldritch. That’s all my mother ever told me about him. Today
his
mother told me more.”

“Who?”

Just then Rus and the two dragonlets burst out of the lake, spraying water everywhere and dashing up the bank to continue their game farther and farther away. Watching them, Merlin mused, “Imagine, a life with nothing to do but play.”

“Earl, you’re changing the subject! Who is this woman?”

He sighed. “You’ve met her. In Avalon. The Lady.”

“Oh. Oh, my.”

“It seems that long, long ago she had a lover. Arawn.”

Heather looked blank. “And who’s he?”

Merlin smiled wanly. “For all your reading in Llandoylan, I guess you didn’t find a book about Celtic myths. Well, actually he’s not a myth. Most of those stories only came to be called myths once this world and the Otherworlds started drifting apart. He is king of Annwyn, land of the dead. The stories never said much about him personally, except that he’s honorable in a severe kind of way and darkly powerful. He and the Lady seem to be opposite forces in everything. They’re dark versus light.”

He was silent a moment, then continued. “When the two of them had a son, the Lady kept the birth secret, because Arawn had heard a prophesy—something about how any child of his would lead to the end of his dominion. The boy grew up quietly in Avalon, but eventually Arawn found out who he was and
would have killed him. When the Lady begged him not to, he transformed the young man into something else—someplace else—and put an unbreakable
geis
on her so that she could not tell where or what he was.”

Heather frowned. This tale swept her up like any recited legend, but she had spent enough time with living legends to know there was more to it. “And how does this—”

Merlin held up his hand. “Sorry. I’m sort of telling this backward. The son of Arawn and the Lady had grown to adulthood before he was found out. Like others of the Eldritch, he occasionally liked to slip into our world. There he met a mortal woman, fell in love with her, and had a child of his own. Me, it seems.”

“Oh,” Heather said again. Then she shook her head as if to clear it. “But that’s wonderful. I think. I mean, now you know who your family is.”

He sighed. “But, Heather, she didn’t tell me this just so I could fill in my genealogy chart. In Faerie they’re aware of all the omens we’ve been seeing and more. She warned me that a great battle, a worldwide battle, is brewing. And she fears that the forces of death and darkness have grown so powerful that they may win. But that prophesy, the one that made Arawn lock his own son away, said that a child of his would ‘hold the key’ to the downfall of his dominion. The Lady believes this is a pivotal part of the great events that are brewing. She wants me to find my father and free him.”

Heather let out the breath she’d been holding. “How?”

Angrily Merlin jumped to his feet. Picking up a rock, he hurled it into the lake. “I don’t know! She wouldn’t say. Or rather, she
couldn’t
say. Apparently, just breaking that oath could bring down the whole realm of Avalon. She can’t let that happen, nor can I. So now, somehow, I’m supposed to find my
father in some unknown form in some unknown place and free him.”

Heather got up, walked to Merlin, and put an arm around his waist. “You can do it. Didn’t Arthur just say how much confidence he has in you?”

He snorted. “I only hope it’s deserved. This could be an impossible task. Arawn is powerful. He could have changed his son into anything and hidden him anywhere.”

“Well, you’re his grandson, aren’t you? You’re powerful too. And Arthur will be marching south soon. We’ll be with him. That will give us a chance to search lots of places.”

“Us?” Merlin questioned. Then he hugged her. “All this talk of the Lord of the Dead and hopeless quests hasn’t scared you off?”

“Nothing could scare me off—not if you’re involved.”

Just then a splash in the lake cause her to jump back.

Merlin laughed. “Nothing?”

She blushed. “That was being startled, not scared.” She looked out at the lake, at the greenish human shape with webbed feet and hands that was tracing a V over the surface of the water. “Look, it’s a water-going mutie. There’s a whole family of them on the far side of the lake. I’ve seen them before.”

Then she looked at him. “Earl, if it does come to a big battle between the forces of dark and the forces of light, how do you think the muties will come down?”

Merlin thought a moment. “Some one way, some another, I should think. I don’t believe muties are much different from other people, except that their ancestors were more deeply affected by radiation during the Devastation. Most people are leery of them, I suspect, simply because they are different. They aren’t automatically evil, though some may have been so warped by the mutations that they have become that way. This is one
thing Arthur needs to focus on, if we survive this war: bringing the muties into his realm—the ones who want to be, that is.”

Heather laughed and pulled him back onto the trail to town. “I guess so, since, in a sense, everyone alive today, except you and Arthur, is something of a mutie. After all, it was darker skin that helped our ancestors survive the radiation.”

“Except me and Arthur and
Morgan,”
he corrected.

She nodded. “See, more proof that evil and good have nothing to do with mutation or skin color. Come on, we don’t want to miss the King’s war council. You being his aged advisor and all.”

Merlin grinned at her, feeling his love for this girl bubble though him like fine wine. He followed her back up the rough trail.

When they reached the large room that served as the King’s council chambers, the gathering had just begun. Arthur’s council, a loose group of his top officers and advisors, had already heard from Brendon, though growls from Otto had forced the young man to cut out some of the poetic flourishes. The men and women were now gathered around the table studying the map of Britain.

“Ah, Merlin,” Arthur said as the two walked in. “Before we get too deep into strategy, perhaps you could tell us about the new information you have picked up.”

Heather settled into a seat next to Welly, while Merlin walked to the head of the table. He looked around uneasily at the assembly, knowing that many here would not feel comfortable with discussion of Otherworlds and mind-talking. But at this point, he simply had to go ahead.

He cleared his throat. “It seems that though we will be facing a battle somewhere in Britain, it may be part of a worldwide conflict. No doubt some of you have heard that we have a mental
link to certain psychically sensitive people around the world.” He deliberately avoided looking at Heather. “Everywhere that still supports human life on this planet is reporting an increase in threat from the darker forces of their Otherworlds.” There was some muttering at this, but the King raised his hand for silence, and Merlin continued.

“I have reason to believe, good reason, that the pivotal battle will be here, though I can’t as yet say exactly where or when.” More muttering, which he spoke over. “But, regardless, we need to be sure of our allies, and they need to be sure of their readiness. And we won’t be alone in this, I believe. The forces of Faerie have a stake in the outcome of this conflict as well and could be powerful allies.”

Sounds of surprise and doubt sparked through the room. Otto spoke up. “And how are we supposed to work with these ‘powerful allies’ when all we have to go by are fairy stories?”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Fairy stories, such as Blanche? But you are right, Otto. The two worlds have been growing so far apart; there is little contact anymore. But there are ways. Some portals remain between our world and theirs, though far fewer than there used to be.” He glanced at Arthur, who nodded for him to continue.

“I propose we send an emissary into Faerie to talk with them and gauge their level of support. Ideally, it should be someone who can pass easily between the two worlds.”

“That would be you?” someone asked.

Merlin shook his head. “No, I have other tasks in this. I suggest that it be Troll. He is of their world and can find the smallest portals that are hidden to the rest of us.”

Sitting on the outside of the group, Troll seemed to swell to twice his size with pride. “Troll can do! Know secret ways. Know important folk to talk to.”

Arthur smiled. “Excellent idea. Troll, I appoint you Royal Emissary to Faerie. If things are as bad as Merlin says, we will need all the help we can get, natural and supernatural.”

“That’s all very well and good,” one of the younger officers said. “But I’d as soon count on our mortal allies first, and how do you suggest they be ready for this battle whenever and wherever it takes place? If we’re talking a few years, then we could all be ready, but what if it’s a few months?”

“We’ll need to send riders out right away to alert the shires to be ready,” Natalie, the King’s chief horse trainer, offered. “The shires will need to put on extra training efforts too.”

“Will there be time for that?” Queen Margaret asked.

Arthur frowned. “Perhaps not. But there may be another solution.” He turned to the far side of the room. “Welly, you and Takata, among others, have been doing wonders training our troops. I could send you as a team to the other shires to alert them and help whip their troops into readiness.”

Welly grinned, but Takata shook her head. “Like the Queen said, is there time for all that riding? This is a pretty big country you have here.”

“I had something faster than horses in mind,” the King said. “Merlin, do you think Blanche would take the assignment?”

Merlin laughed. “In a wingflap. She’s a young dragon and still longs for adventure. She’s ornery, though, and will protest just out of habit. But if the Pendragon asks her politely …”

Arthur groaned, then nodded. “Right. I’ll ask her, if you can manage to get her here. In the meantime, we must step up our preparations to depart. I’d like to be under way in three days. Judging by Brendon’s news, Manchester should be our first goal.”

The discussion continued on routes and tactics while Merlin resumed his seat. In moments, Troll was tugging at his sleeve. “When Royal Emissary go?”

Merlin looked into the sincere wrinkled face, its ears flapping with eagerness. “Right away. This is an important assignment. You need to find out how much they know about the coming conflict and how much help we can expect from them. And, Troll, there is something very particular I need you to find out, which I didn’t have a chance to ask … earlier. We need to know where this battle, the one in Britain, is to take place so that Arthur can have his troops there. And the timing too. We need to know
when
and
where
it’s going to happen. Have you got all that?”

“Yes, Great Wizard. Troll find out everything!”

Just when it looked as if the little creature couldn’t get any prouder, they saw that Margaret had come to stand beside him. “If you are to be a true Royal Emissary,” she said, looking down at him, “you need a badge of office. I, Queen of Britain, award you this.”

Taking off a necklace, she lowered it solemnly over his head. At the end of a brass chain, its metal starburst sparkled with pre-Devastation glass diamonds. Merlin knew it was one of the many treasures Margaret and Arthur had been given as wedding presents, treasures which Margaret was perpetually trying to give away. But as Troll looked down at the glittering pendant lying on the sparse yellow hairs of his chest, his proud grin stretched from ear to large ear.