Merlin's Shadow (38 page)

Arthur sneezed.

Merlin saw, then, that the dreadful wound in the boy's stomach had been healed, though a great scar remained. Merlin picked him up again just as Arthur opened his eyes. The boy reached out, clasped Merlin's wet hair — and sighed.

Only then did Merlin weep.

Ganieda panicked. Merlin was pushing the bowl closer and closer, and it smelled more foul than anything she had ever encountered. She started to gag.

And then the bowl began to glow, just as it had when she'd seen it in the orb. She could feel its white-hot heat on her neck. “Don't touch me with it!” she said, backing away.

But Merlin came closer and pressed the horrible thing to her nose as if to brand her. Yes, he wanted to scar
her
face just as his had been. Vile revenge! His mouth spoke some words, but they were lost in her own screaming.

She whirled to the side, slipped behind Loth's black, pulsing body, and watched.

Merlin looked confused for a moment, searching for her. Then he brought the gleaming bowl to the king's altar — and poured forth a liquid brighter than the sun itself. It burned her vision and she hid her eyes.

A deep sense of doom gripped her heart. They would die, yes, all of them, unless she … But what could she do? Her grandfather had foolishly not remembered to give her the fang.
If only he'd given her the fang!

Then the Voice whispered in her ear — giving her a new task. Yes, she would do it — for this man before her was attractive and his soul would serve the Voice's cause well.

Ganieda reached forward, grabbed on to Loth's belt, and pulled him backward until his grip broke with those around him.

When he realized what had happened, he turned angrily upon her.

She embraced him, calling upon the orb to take her back. Her vision blurred and they lifted from the mountaintop. Far away, as if through a tunnel, she saw water pour forth from the altar. King Atle perished in a puff of smoke, as did the others. The vision fled away from her sight, and through darkness and wind she tumbled, gripping Loth tightly, until her vision cleared.

Once again she stood in Grandfather's tent — this time with Loth beside her. The orb rested in her hand once again, but where was the fang? She needed it to kill Merlin. Her grandfather had it, had kept it from her … and his surprised face at their arrival told her that now was the time to take what was by rights hers alone.

“Give it to me,” Ganieda demanded.

He shook his head, confused. “What, what? You come back so soon? And with Loth? But why … What has happened?”

“Merlin isn't dead, and I know nothing of Arthur.” She narrowed her eyes.
“Give me the fang!”

“I will not. You have trifled with it for too long, and I found it at the risk of my life. You are a foolish child, and I will not give it.”

“Where am I?” Loth demanded. “What happened to my father … the others?”

“All will be answered,” Ganieda said, glancing at his youthful strength. Yes, he would be
very
helpful to the Voice. But she would need more. A very army of loyal servants.

She turned back to her grandfather — for he had to submit as well. The Voice had told her so. “Give it to me,” Ganieda said once more, this time with more vehemence. The orb in her hand began to burn purple before her, and sparks flew from its center. She advanced on her grandfather.

He backed up, fumbling in his bag with his one hand.

Ganieda would need help here. If only Loth were trained … but no, he was not yet useful. He would not understand. She whistled, and the tent ripped behind her. Within moments, Tellyk stood at her side, growling at her grandfather.

“Give me the fang!”

“I will not!” He had it out now, threatening her. Jumping to the side to put Ganieda between himself and the wolf, he lunged at her and jabbed the fang into her shoulder.

She didn't recoil, for it didn't hurt. The Voice had said that the fang was
hers
and it could not harm her. Strength emanated from the bloodless wound, and Ganieda grew. Taller. Stronger.

Grandfather staggered back, gasping. He shrunk down before her.

No longer Ganieda the little, she would now and always be Gana the great …
Mórgana
. A fear to all Britons who followed the Christ. High servant of the Voice. True master of the Stone, the Fang, and the Orb. A worthy wife for Loth. Yes,
she
would return the rule of Britain to the Voice, and no one — not even Merlin — would stop her.

Tellyk lunged at Grandfather and knocked him down. Ganieda — no,
Mórgana
— stepped over and wrenched the green glowing fang from his quivering grasp.

The deadly power of the fang writhed in her hand, bringing even more strength. Lifting high the orb, she commanded it to take her to Merlin. Its flame rekindled, and it grew within her palm. But then the orb paused … and then shrunk back to its normal size.

“Take me to Merlin!” she screamed, but it refused. She yelled in rage. Lightning split the heavens and a thunderous wind buffeted the tent. Loth fell to his knees before her rage; even Tellyk crouched and whined.

Then a whisper tickled her ear, and her temper receded. The answer, the Voice said, lay not with the orb or fang, but within the Stone — and she must go and speak with it. Truly it had been injured by Merlin's blade, and even though Grandfather was too old to hear its weakened voice, she could.

To the Stone, then … To the Stone!

M
erlin knelt in a silent prayer of thanksgiving once their boat set sail.

Everyone was accounted for and on board — everyone that is except Kensa, who had died with Atle and the others whose lives relied on the pagan ritual. Merlin had fished Bedwir from the water as he floated by. Peredur had found his way to a pillar and held on until the flood passed. Garth had pulled two small logs together and climbed on top. And Caygek, poor Caygek; he'd grabbed on to a shattered tree stump at the top of the hill and had nearly been drowned by the onrush.

And each one of them rejoiced in Arthur's return — not only to health, but also to their safekeeping. Before they left, Peredur found a needle used to repair sails and stitched up a tunic and small cloak for the boy, and soon he was running around on the deck of the ship as if nothing had happened to him.

The ship itself was provided by Atle, for his death left many boats abandoned in a small harbor on the other side of the mountain. Garth picked the biggest — provisioned, seaworthy, and ready to sail.

As Merlin prayed, there at the prow of the ship he heard and felt the old boards creak under his knees as someone knelt next to him. Not wanting to disturb the other, he kept his eyes closed and kept praying. His companion was praying too, for Merlin caught a few of his whispered words. The two of them stayed there for a good while, and only then did Merlin sit up and open his eyes.

And blinked. Caygek, praying? When he finished, he laid his arm over the rail and eyed Merlin with a solemn face.

“Were you …?” Merlin asked.

“What of it? You've seen it before.”

“Not you.”

“I've offered up prayers all my life. Is there a problem?”

“But I heard you … you were praying … to Jesu Christus.”

“Let's just say that I've never seen anything like what happened up there. The others saw it too. Bedwir says it was the Sangraal you held, the bowl that caught the blood of Christ at his death.”

But Merlin guessed there was something more, and had been suspecting it for a long time. “Is that the only thing that brought you to believe?”

Caygek looked away toward the west. “No. It was your love for Arthur. Your willingness to sacrifice yourself for him. You … and everyone else.”

Merlin felt very humble. Where Caygek had seen faith, all Merlin had felt was doubt and failure. If God could use such an imperfect servant, then God was great indeed.

Caygek reached out and touched Merlin on the shoulder. “I've been a man of principle all my life,” he said, “and I have rarely found it in others. And so I was ashamed that you all — even Peredur — were willing to risk everything when all I wanted to do was run away like a hunted buck.”

“We were all afraid,” Merlin said. “Most of all me.” He held Caygek's shoulder in return. “I'm glad you came.”

“Not that I had much choice with those warriors chasing me down the dock. I guess God had other ideas.”

“For me as well. Where will you go from here?”

Caygek shrugged. “I want you to know, I've learned that those who are humbled the most have their eyes opened widest. I was hoping … hoping you'd have me as one of Arthur's protectors.”

“But, Caygek —”

“Bedwir's already sworn himself, and Peredur too.”

“But —”

“He'll need more than two, won't he?”

A smile crept slowly over Merlin's face. “He'll need an entire warband, yes.”

“Then you'll have me?”

Merlin nodded, and they embraced.

The voyage back to Britain was, to say the least, uneventful considering the travails of their journey north. A solid, wooden hull helped with that, and they even had a sturdy cabin below deck to retreat to, warm themselves up, and sleep in. Garth sailed them on a different route, however, because the winds and waves forced them a long way westward before they could turn south.

Yet as the days passed, the ocean rolled on, and the winds blew them toward Dinpelder, Merlin's worry grew. Was Natalenya still alive? Dread roiled his gut like a rancid meal he couldn't get rid of. Each night he fell asleep holding on to the Sangraal, yet putting his trust in the God of the Sangraal as much as he could rather than the bowl itself. But it was hard, for when he tried to pray, his old doubts throttled him, and he had to beat them back with his newly strengthened faith. God was in control. God was sovereign and ruling from his throne.

When they sailed within sight of the Pictish coast, Garth kept
them a safe distance away, and they followed this route down until they neared the northern lands of Atle's kingdom. When the morning of their arrival came, Merlin was awakened by a shout from Garth, who stood on deck above the hold.

“Merlin, we're here! Come quick!”

He rubbed his eyes, and in the dim light gathered his few things. Then he wrapped his cloak about himself, pulled himself up onto the deck, and stepped out into the morbid light of a thinly veiled sun, the wind running from the steerboard side. From the prow he spied the land of northern Britain, the little harbor village, and the great hill of Dinpelder beyond.

Smoke billowed upward from the fortress.

“What is it?” he asked Garth, who stood beside him.

“I was hopin' you'd tell me.”

They sailed into the harbor and found the town in chaos, with villagers gathering things and many of them fleeing. Letting down the sail, Garth steered them near to the dock, and Merlin tied the ship to a post.

The smoke from Atle's fortress thickened.

Merlin jumped out and spied Aulaf with some men loading barrels into one of the many small rowboats. No other large vessels could be seen in the harbor.

“Aulaf!” Merlin called. “What's happening?”

The man looked up in surprise to see Merlin. He rushed over. “We are attacked, yah? We must leave!”

“We have friends at the hof!”

“It's gone. Collapsed days ago. Very strange, yah? And even if you tried, you won't make it. The Picti are burning the fortress, yah? Thousands of them!”

So Necton had raised an army and come back for revenge. Merlin shuddered to think of it. Atle had controlled most of the northern kingdom. Would Necton take it all? Would this increase the slave raids to the south? If that Pict knew Merlin and the others were here, he'd want Arthur back as his son.

“They're coming!” Aulaf said. “And since you lost my little ship, all I have is a few rowboats.”

Merlin smiled at him. “I'm giving you this one, Aulaf. King Atle and his house will never need it again. But I need to find my friends — an old man and a girl who are strangers here.”

Aulaf gave Merlin a worried glance. “No girl, but an old man, yah. Named Colly-bar.”

“Colvarth … his name is Colvarth. You've seen him?”

“Sure, he was walking through the village less than an hour ago. Looked very sad. Asked if I had a shovel. He said he had to bury something. I told him there was no time, yah?”

Merlin gulped.

“Hey … you give me a bigger boat, you get your sword back. You may need it. I don't know how to use it, anyway. I just catch fish and pickle ‘em, yah? Swords are no good for that.” He unstrapped a new leather scabbard from his waist and handed it and the blade to Merlin.

Merlin took hold of it, hardly caring. “W-Where's Colvarth now?”

“Down the shore, I think, a brown house, yah?”

Aulaf yelled for his men to start loading the cargo onto Merlin's ship. Before Aulaf could go and help them, Merlin grabbed his arm and turned him around.

“Don't sail away without us.”

“Wait here, yah?”

“Yes.” Merlin turned and called to Bedwir, instructing him and the others to stay on the boat. Then he ran down the dock to the shore.

But he was quickly frustrated. A brown house? They were all built from a type of brown rock, every last one of them. The first house was deserted, with the door hanging open. The second one had the door closed, and Merlin knocked loudly.

“Colvarth! It's Merlin,” he yelled, but no one answered. The next house was the same, and the one after that. At the fourth house, a
man opened the door, brandishing a spear. Merlin backed away, telling him he wasn't a Pict.

At the end of the row, he finally arrived at a ramshackle roundhouse with a rotting roof. What had been the door now lay in decayed chunks and splinters on the ground. He caught his breath when he heard the faint sounds of a harp. Stepping closer, he spied Colvarth sitting near a small fire with his eyes closed, playing a sad and mournful tune. Next to him lay a pallet lumped with moth-eaten woolen blankets.

Merlin's words caught in his throat, so he purposefully scuffed his boot.

Colvarth saw him and his fingers froze on the harp strings. He stood stiffly, bowed, and shuffled over to him, his head down. “I saw the ship coming, and I'd hoped it was you. But I was afraid to —”

“It-It's all right,” Merlin said, his throat closing up.

“That is best, for she needs the rest, and I didn't want to wake her.”

“Wake her? You mean —”

“She sleeps, yes.”

Merlin blinked. “Aulaf, the man at the dock, he told me you needed to bury —”

“The dog, yes. Yapping thing! It choked on a bone and I could not save it, not that I was sure I wanted to, for it ate too much food. But it comforted Natalenya, so I tried.”

An arm raised up from the wool blankets, and Natalenya rolled to face them. The boils now covered her face, and she blinked at him.

“Colvarth, is someone here?”

The bard leaned close to Merlin. “She cannot see anymore, it is that bad.”

Merlin went to her, dropped to his knees, and gently lifted her into his arms.

“Who is this?” she said. “Colvarth, who is this?” She pushed him to arms length, sniffed the air, and then reached her hand out …
and touched his nose gently, hesitantly. Her fingers found one of his scars and traced it down to his left cheek, wet with a newly shed tear. Then she pulled him close and they hugged in earnest.

“Merlin, you've come back to me. Is Arthur —?”

“He's safe, and we have him with us. God gave us the victory, and Atle is dead, along with his household.”

But there was other news he didn't know how to say.

“Loth died too.”

“I don't care about him. I only want you. I only ever wanted you.”

He pulled back a little and turned his face to the side. “Not with the scars.”

She touched his chin and turned him to face her. Then she kissed him on the thickest scar that cut across his right cheekbone. “Always with the scars. Never without. You wouldn't be you without each and every one. I need them. I'm safe with them and them only.”

Merlin cried, his mouth open and his breath catching in his throat. Did she really love him that way? He had been wrong to doubt her. To doubt himself. Could he fully trust his heart to her? He would only know if he asked.

“Natalenya … will you … will you still marry me?”

She pulled away from him.

“Natalenya, I —”

“You can't marry me. I'm untouchable … I'm …”

Now this was a switch. He'd worried about her ability to love him, while she couldn't believe that he could love her. But he
could
, boils and all, and if he could love her unconditionally, couldn't she do the same?

He stroked the hair on top of her head. “I don't care about the sickness. I need you. No matter what happens, we'll face it together, to the very end … Will you marry me?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, and turned back and embraced him again, sobbing onto his cloak, and he onto the blanket that lay across her shoulder, and he wanted their hug to never end.

Except — but he had to try. In trust this time, not in the Sangraal
but in God himself. He knew that God meant good, and if he chose to heal her now, then fine. And if not, then God would do so in heaven.

He pulled back, wiped his eyes, and untied his bag. His hands shook as he slipped the Sangraal out and placed it in her hands. He didn't even look inside, but rather trusted.

“Drink this,” he said.

“What is it?”

“Love and trust the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength … come what may.”

She drank from it, her blind eyes staring into nothingness. And then she blinked.

“Merlin!”

“Yes?”

“I see you. I can see you!”

And the black boils upon her face began to shrink away and melt into her skin. The oozing sores dried up and disappeared. A rosy flush returned to her cheeks.

She sat up, feeling the skin on her forearms, and pulled up her sleeves to look for any boils that remained — yet there were none. She smiled, then, brighter and happier than Merlin had ever seen. She stood on two hale feet and walked into his arms.

Colvarth coughed at the door, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, my Merlin, to interrupt, but we must leave. I fear it may already be too late.”

Outside, screams could be heard.

“The Picts are raiding the village. We must go, or become slaves again.”

Merlin led the way, holding Natalenya's hand, and she helping Colvarth. He had them crouch down at each house as they made their way back along the shore to the dock. Some of the houses in the distance had been put to flame, and villagers ran past them, their arms full of blankets, pots, and weapons.

Merlin drew his father's sword. It felt good to have it just now.

They barely made it to the dock in time, and when they reached the boat, Caygek threw them a rope ladder. Natalenya climbed up first, followed by Colvarth

Merlin grabbed on to the ladder and pulled himself upward. Caygek smiled and helped him onto the deck.eredur and Aulaf raised the sail, and Garth steered them away from the harbor.