Merlin's Nightmare (The Merlin Spiral) (42 page)

M
erlin packed his saddlebags for the ride to Glevum, but he fumbled at the straps with numb fingers. He could only see Natalenya’s face. He would go to Kernow, he told himself, but his heart was in the north, if anything — anyone — still lived there. If Natalenya and his family still lived.

He choked back a sob. How could he go on living, moving, and breathing when terrible things must be happening back home? Why had his divine mission called him south just when he was needed most in the north?

Taliesin . . . Tinga . . .
Natalenya
!

Arthur blew a horn, and the men mounted.

Merlin climbed onto his horse, his limbs wooden and his head so heavy that his neck bent down and his back ached. Peredur fetched his harp and handed it up, but Merlin hardly cared. “Leave it behind,” he wanted to say, but his tongue felt thick and he couldn’t speak.

Peredur looked at him with pity and concern, his lips tight and his eyes sober. “Can I help?”

But Merlin couldn’t tell him what was wrong. What good would it do? Nothing the man could say or do would solve the dilemma Merlin found himself in: bound to the task of going forward to confront what he thought was his worst fear, only to find a greater worry dogging him from behind. Beset on both sides with crushing nightmares, how could he survive? How could he
not
go home now?

Around and around his thoughts chased, until the rhythmic jostling of the horse jumbled them and they fell away into the dry scrub. All manner of sanity fled.

Gorlas is coming . . . Gorlas is coming . . .

Mórgana is near . . . Mórgana is near . . .

Mórgana’s waiting . . .

With a baited blade . . . And a ghostly breath . . .

Crows flew overhead, and then all the land grew silent.

Merlin began to see things. Snouts sniffing the air from behind massive trees. A hairy paw sticking out at the back of a boulder. Wicked eyes glaring at Merlin from inside the slim opening of a cliff-cave. Yet whenever he blinked, the wolf would be gone, and the forest empty.

Am I seeing things? Am I going mad?

The warriors around him seemed oblivious.

Merlin kicked his horse into a canter. He had to scout ahead. Maybe Gorlas was laying a trap for them and had a large force hidden in the woods. He rode past Culann and Peredur, then Dwin and Arthur at the lead.

“Merlin!” Arthur called. “What — ?”

But Merlin made the motion for silence and rode on ahead, keeping his eyes open and his wits about him, addled though they were. Soon the path led up a broad hill that blocked his view of what lay beyond, and Merlin approached the crest cautiously. When he reached the top he found a red-legged crow sitting in the path ripping at a dead squirrel with its blood-red bill.

Merlin rode closer, but the bird only turned its head and eyed him suspiciously. When his horse’s hooves were finally upon it, the crow shrieked at him and flew up into the air, flapping at his face. He covered his eyes with his hand, but the bird raked him across the forehead before it flew off into the woods, cawing.

Merlin rubbed the welt, let out his breath, and spent a good while studying the woods nearby . . . but noticed nothing unusual.

Continuing down the road, he turned a bend and saw a man in the distance lying on the ground next to the path. Merlin drew his blade as he rode his horse nearer. The man was very large, and had blood on the side of his head . . . and . . . did Merlin recognize him?

The man stirred, glanced at Merlin, and pulled himself up with great effort.

It was Gogirfan Gawr! The giant!

“Goodly stranger, ya have come in my great need!” he said. His left hand was scraped and bleeding and his clothes were all disheveled. Merlin looked, but the man’s stout horse was nowhere in sight, and neither were his daughters.

Merlin wanted to hail the giant, but Gogi didn’t seem to recognize him. Then again, Merlin wasn’t wearing his mask and hood anymore. Now that Vortigern was dead, there was no need.

“Ma daughters! They’ve both been abducted by a ruffian! Can ya please help me save ’em?”

“Where?” Merlin asked.

“In ma tent . . . just down this path, ya know! The thug means to harm ’em. Please help ma!” He pointed down a thin trail that snaked off into the woods.

The sound of men and horses drifted toward them as Arthur, Dwin, and Culann rode up over the crest of the hill, the army behind them.

Recognition flashed in Gogi’s eyes, and then the color drained from his face. “Ahhh . . . I didn’t know it was you! An’ I thought ya were alone . . .”

Merlin called back to Arthur. “It’s Gogi! Gwenivere and Gwenivach are captives!”

Arthur and Culann raced their horses down the hill and pulled them to a fast, hard stop.

“Well . . . maybe ah can handle it!” Gogi said, and he patted a little knife at his hip. “Ah didn’t realize I still had me trusty blade. No need — ”

Arthur leaned forward. “Where are they?” he asked, his words quick.

Merlin explained, while Gogi grew more agitated. The giant started backing down the trail. “Ya got’s a big group here, an so’s ya can let ma handle it.”

Culann drew his blade. “Stand aside, man, and let me through.”

“But ya all might scare the ruffian! He might kill ’em then, ya know!”

Arthur found a gap between the trees and rode his horse past Gogi.

“Let me pass!” Culann said.

As Gogi turned to see Arthur thundering off, Culann slipped his horse into the gap, pushing the giant aside.

Merlin followed, with Dwin close behind.

Gogi shook his head and ambled behind.

Merlin rode fast to catch up with the others, who were dismounting outside the tent. It was a strange sort of pavilion, with large, embroidered flaps, a central pole, and two smaller tents protruding on either side to form wings.

Arthur drew his blade and was about to run in when Merlin called to him.

“Caution, Arthur! That may not be the best . . .”

Arthur took one look back and ran into the tent as if he hadn’t heard. Culann and Dwin were right behind.

Merlin entered last . . . and sucked in his breath when he saw the situation. In the rear of the tent stood a brown-hatted man with a knife to Gwenivere’s throat. Gwenivach lay on her side, bound, with the man’s boot on her head.

“Get back or I’ll kill her!” the man yelled. He looked wildly at the four of them, and he jerked the blade closer.

Gwenivere screeched.

Arthur didn’t back up, but didn’t advance either. “What do you want?”

“Three gold pieces . . . and a horse tah ride away on . . . and I let ’em live.”

Arthur searched the bag at his side.

Culann kicked out the central pole of the tent.

The ruffian looked up and panicked as the tent fabric began to float down on him.

Culann lunged forward, grabbed the man’s knife hand, and pointed his own blade at the man’s face.

The man gave up and dropped his knife.

Dwin pushed the central pole back up, giving Merlin a better view. That was when he recognized the man, who had a thick scar across his chin . . . and that brown hat! There was a cut through the top. This was the same horse thief that Merlin had fought on the bridge. The same one that had stolen one of their horses.

Merlin’s stomach clenched like he’d just swallowed a rock, and he drew his own blade and placed it next to Culann’s. Knocking the man’s hat off, he grabbed his hair, jerking him back.

Gwenivere fell from his grip, screaming. “Don’t hurt him! Don’t you dare hurt him!”

For a heartbeat all three rescuers stared at the girl. Then Gogi ducked into the tent, huffing. “Don’t . . . don’t hurt him!”

“What’s going on here? Who are you?” Merlin shouted, as much at Gogi as at the stranger.

With two blades in his face the man didn’t dare move, but he slowly turned his gaze up at Merlin.

Gogi spoke first. “He’s . . . he’s me only son, ya know!”

Merlin stiffened and felt his hands tingle.

“Aye, I’m his son — Melwas mab Gogirfan!” the man said. And though he had neither his father’s height nor girth, Merlin saw the resemblance now: the roundly shaped ears, the slightly bulbous nose, and those bushy eyebrows.

He let go of the man’s hair and pulled his blade away.

Gogi fell to his knees before them, yet his head was still level with Merlin’s chest. “We were trickin’ yah,” Gogi said. “To give us gold and a horse. I only tell the story tah riders I thinks are alone. I didn’t know it was you all, or I would’ve never tried, ya know.” He took his sleeve and wiped what Merlin had thought was blood from his hand. There was no wound.

Culann reached down to help Gwenivere stand, but she pushed his hand away and found her own feet. Gwenivach slipped out of her loose knots and stood next to her sister, teeth gritted and eyes glaring.

The giant bent his head down, his eyelids drooped, and his lips formed a pout above his finely braided white beard. “I’m full sorry, Gogi is, and I admit that I’ve been trying to take your horses from the moment I met ya. We people — we Walkers — are a poor lot, and we fairly starve come late winter.”

The urge to slap the man came over Merlin, but he held his arms tight to his sides. “Where’s Dwin’s horse, then? Give it back to us.”

Gogi’s eyes brightened. “Ya know, we tried to sell ’im three times, but haven’t found someone willing to part with enough coins . . . so we still have him. Melwas . . . go get the chestnut, and be quick about it.”

Melwas stood, slipped from the tent, and came rushing back in.

“There’s warriors out there!”

Arthur led the way, then, and they all stepped out.

Percos, Neb, and a few other warriors had come with their weapons ready.

Arthur nodded to them as Melwas stepped into the woods and swiftly returned with Dwin’s horse, which nickered at Dwin’s gentle touch to its cheek.

“I never thought I’d get you back!” he said.

“Well, while we’re all here,” Gogi said, “why don’t we make up a big pot o’ soup and — ”

Merlin held up his hand. Just thinking about it made his ears
throb. “We have to go,” he said curtly. “And I hope we
never
have the pleasure of seeing you again.” He stared sternly at Arthur, but the young man looked away to steal a glance at Gwenivere. The girl sat with her eyes downcast upon the burnt remains of their campfire, over which a skinny, charred bird was spitted.

Merlin mounted and the others followed suit wordlessly. Once they were riding back down the trail, though, Arthur trotted his horse up to Merlin.

“Why’d you leave so soon?”

“Go ahead. Give ’em Casva and be done with it.”

“I’m serious. Gwenivere — ”

“Tried to steal your horse.”

Arthur huffed and rode ahead.

“And my horse, remember?” Merlin called after him. “If they’d had their way, we would have all walked the entire length of Kembry!”

A short ride brought them to the Fossa, but they ignored the dusty road bed to head cross-country toward Glevum.

Merlin rode near Arthur the rest of the day, but the two didn’t speak. So it was a relief when evening began to descend and the setting sun etched the sky with brass and burgundy, heralding their arrival at Glevum. They rounded a ridge of trees and beheld smoke still hanging over the city. After passing through the east gate in silence, the small band wound their way toward the ruins of Dinas Vitalinus, hoping to find those who might have gathered for the muster.

As they approached, a figure dashed into a large stone building.

“Hey, there!” Arthur called, but no one answered his hail.

By the time they arrived, the man had run out again with ten other warriors, all holding spears.

“Halt!” the man said, looking from Arthur to Culann to Dwin, and then to the long line of warriors beyond. “Who dares enter Vortigern’s city unheralded?”

When Merlin rode up, he saw that the man was mostly bald, and what was left of his brown hair hung down, unkempt, past his shoulders. He wore a black tunic and a thick leather belt adorned with a whip, a long dirk, and a flagellum.