“What can he do for me? I don’t know, to be honest. I want my name back. If I can’t have my station back, I want to know the ways of the dark forest. I want to retreat deep into the woodland. I want . . . peace of mind. Do you think that is so much to ask, Camille?”
With a heavy heart, hoping that the Merlin wouldn’t turn out to be like the Great and Powerful Oz—a con artist and huckster—I shook my head. “No, cousin. It’s not too much to ask. And I hope, for your happiness, that he can give you what you seek.”
She smiled sadly. “We shall see. But Camille, be wary. Don’t let yourself end up following in my footsteps. Make sure you know what’s going on. Don’t trade in your heart for illusions. You have three men you love dearly and a family who cares about you. Above all, don’t trade any of them for shiny titles. And make certain you know who the other players in the game really are.”
And with that advice, she turned toward the foothill, and motioned for us to take shelter beneath the nearest outcropping. “We need to stop for food. By tonight, with luck, we will find our way to the Merlin. As to waking him, whether that be good fortune or not remains to be seen.”
Chapter 15
As we rested, trying to keep out the of brunt of the storm, I realized we’d finished off most of our supplies. We might not have enough to make it home on. But a day or two of going hungry wouldn’t hurt any of us, and we weren’t that far from the mouth of the portal.
I leaned my head back against the rock wall behind me. We were under a large ledge, but if I peeked around it, the cliff face soared so far into the sky that I couldn’t see the top. The Veiled Mountains were no slackers when it came to the geology department. What Morgaine had called a foothill was a substantial mountain—even compared to the dizzying heights of the Cascades that divided the state of Washington in half.
The mountains here, though, weren’t volcanic. I couldn’t feel the throb of the lava below the surface, like I could at home when we headed out to Mount Rainier, where Smoky’s barrow was. No, these were older, weathered beyond time. They had existed before the dinosaurs. Before any living creature walked on the planet. They were rife with magic, like the Southern Wastes, and yet this magic was natural—innate within the molecules of the rock.
I turned to Morgaine. “This realm . . . it wasn’t created at the same time that the Great Divide took place, was it?”
She licked something off her fingers—it looked like honey—and shook her head. “No. This realm existed long before the Great Divide. The Elder Fae have always been more detached from humans than the Sidhe and the Unseelie have. They are the parents of the twin Courts, and yet, they are as far distanced as . . . as . . .”
“As Yvarr is from Smoky’s kin. They’re our Titans, aren’t they? Our forerunners.” I was beginning to understand. There had been several great races through history, the Elder Fae, the Wyrms, the Titans . . . and from them, the more modern species and races had been born. A thought occurred to me. “Did humans . . . do they have their own version of forebears other than what’s known?”
Morgaine nodded. “Yes, actually. They were known as the giants. But even with humans, there’s so much about history we don’t know. There was a time when the world was vastly different. When the Fae and humans coexisted in a tenuous peace, before recorded history. Then, the humans descended into a dark age and everything from that time is pretty much lost. They emerged again back around Sumer, and then later in Egypt.”
She paused, holding up one hand. “The wind is picking up. We have to move.”
And with that, our break was over. The path leading up into the ravine was narrow and, just as we had wound our way through the marsh-ridden, snow-covered grass, here we spread out single file, in the same order with Morgaine in the lead. I gripped my staff tightly—it still tingled from the magic I’d infused into it earlier.
As we left the shelter of the overhang, the wind hit us full force, channeling down through the ravine. It funneled through the narrow passage, gusting against us as if we were in a wind tunnel. The snow was still falling, and the weather had shifted for the worse with the passage of Beira. At the front, Morgaine was taking the brunt of the storm, but she was sturdier than I’d expected, braving the wind without a flinch.
The passage was narrow—if I stretched my arms out, I could run my hands along both sides of the channel. With a grade that was at least twenty percent, the going was steep and I was grateful for my staff. While we could manage it without too many problems, too long and we’d be off our guard with weariness. The climb was taxing, but the weather on top of it made everything treacherous.
Granite walls hemmed us in as we ascended, and I began to feel a lumbering sense of claustrophobia. The only thing we could see beyond the path in front of us and the walls to either side was the open sky, a churning mass of clouds and falling snow. The world had closed in around us, and as vast as the marshland and plains had been, this felt narrow and funneled and cramped.
I tried to focus on my feet instead of the never-ending trail. After all, we weren’t underground. We weren’t clinging to the side of a ravine, trying not to fall. We were headed toward our destination and we had to come out sometime. I thought about talking to Morio, but the wind was too loud and the howl of it would steal away my voice before my words ever reached him.
Perhaps that was what was the worst of it—the yammering winds. They raged and roared, blustering by, whipping up our cloaks and capes and anything not firmly anchored to our bodies. I had done my best to tie my cloak together in front to keep the wind from tossing my skirt into a frenzy, but that just made it more difficult, cutting down on the aerodynamics of my outfit. I felt like I was wearing a mushroom that billowed around me, making it difficult to walk without getting some layer or other caught between my legs.
On we went, as the day darkened. The snowstorm kept the sky from going pitch-dark. That silvery-green light that accompanied winter storms glimmered against the clouds, providing an eerie illumination. Vague snippets from our fights with zombies and ghouls cropped up—they took on that same eerie color, or they did once they’d been dead for a while before the necromancer reanimated them.
But that line of thought brought to mind too many gory fights, too much stress, and so I did my best to shake away the thoughts. Forcing myself to focus on thoughts of home and of Maggie, and Iris and all things that I loved the best, I brought my attention back to the path, and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as we marched along the mountain trail.
* * *
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but I suddenly realized it was a great deal darker than it had been last time I’d paid attention, and my calves were beginning to ache. At that moment, Morgaine called a halt to our traveling. She motioned to a turnoff about twenty yards ahead, then pointed behind me to the others. I nodded.
Turning to Morio, I motioned for him to lean close to me. As soon as he had, I shouted over the wind. “There’s a turnoff ahead. We’re heading there. Tell the others to be ready. We don’t know what will be in there.” And he, in turn, began to pass the information on. As soon as everybody had their weapons ready, Morio gave me the thumbs-up and I turned back to Morgaine.
“We’re ready to go.”
She began to move. As we closed in on the turnoff, a shiver raced up my spine. What if there was something waiting in there? Would Morgaine be able to get out of the way in time? I was second in line and I had to be prepared to help her should anything come out swinging.
I readied the staff. As I gripped it tightly, I sensed something emanating from it. A sentience, of some sort. I jerked, but managed to keep my footing. I wanted to explore the feeling further but Morgaine’s movements caught my attention again. I didn’t have time to figure out what had just happened—I had to be on my guard. I hurried to catch up with her.
The turnoff was just wide enough so that I could swing in by her side. She gave me a hesitant smile from beneath the massive hood of
her cloak, and we stepped into what I realized was an actual cavern.
Instantly, the wind died, rushing down through the path rather than into the cave. I let out a long sigh, realizing how tense the weather had been making me, but I didn’t let myself relax—not till we knew we were safe.
The walls and ceiling of the cave were covered with a myriad of crystals—long spikes of quartz and amethyst and citrine. And from within those spikes, a faint light sparkled, so that the entire cave was lit up with a soft glow reminding me of Christmas lights.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, not even realizing I was speaking aloud.
But Morgaine nodded. “The Merlin was locked within a crystal cavern, much like Aeval. Do you know the reason for that?”
I shook my head. “No. Why?”
“Because the crystals amplified the spells, making it that much harder for them to escape. There was always the fear that their powers were strong enough for them to break the spells and free themselves. And there is some truth to that—the Fae Queen and the Merlin—well, the great Fae Lords may have been powerful but they only won the war by enslaving the wyrms and creatures of the earth to their side. They would not have stood a chance against their enemies if they had gone up against them on their own. Aeval is probably the most powerful sorceress who has ever lived here on Earthside, eclipsed only by the Merlin, and only by the fact that she is not pledged to the Moon Mother, while he is backed by the power of the Hunter.”
I pondered this thought. “Aeval is more powerful than Titania, then?”
“Yes.”
“The Merlin, if he and Aeval joined forces . . . ”
“Trust me,” Morgaine said. “There was good reason the Great Fae Lords feared Aeval, Titania, and the Merlin. Their powers combined? An almost unstoppable force.” She laughed, and this time, I sensed no bitterness, but an actual joy. “I wish they had been more arrogant and not realized the strength of their adversaries. It would have made things so much simpler.” She sounded nostalgic, almost wistful, but then stopped.
Pointing to one corner, she said, “Look—others have been here.”
A pile of scattered bones were lying there. They looked weathered and old, like they’d been there well over a hundred years. There were three skulls that we could see, so there had been at least three victims.
I knelt by the bones. Too much time had gone by to tell why they had died—at least without a forensics team in tow.
“Either they took shelter from a storm and were trapped, or perhaps, something in the cave killed them. It’s impossible to tell—the skeletons were torn to pieces years ago.” One way or another, it was a warning.
The others were in the cave by now. As soon as we secured the immediate area, we could rest. The cavern went so far back that we stopped at an area where the crystals formed a line across the floor. The row of spikes looked like a border.
Not wanting to test what might be on the other side, we decided that we’d gone far enough for the moment. While we rested, we could keep watch on the boundary line.
We sorted through our food supplies, and combined all our reserves. We had enough food for two days for everyone if we rationed it out. We wouldn’t go hungry, but there were no second helpings, either.
Water was running low, but we could gather snow from the path outside and melt it. Delilah and Tanne brought in a big mound of snow on one of the plastic tarps, and we spread it out, trying to warm it so it would melt and we could siphon it off into the bottles. After about fifteen minutes, we’d managed to fill up seven of the empty containers and decided to give it a rest.
I pulled out my blanket and wrapped it around me, trying to warm up. “So, where to do we go from here? Is this the entrance you were looking for?”
Morgaine nodded. “I think so. And I believe that line of crystals is masking an illusion. What looks like empty cavern will disappear, if my information is correct.”
“What will show in its place?” Tanne asked, stretching out his long legs.
She shrugged. “That, my friend, I do not know. I suppose we shall find out, don’t you? But first, we rest for a few hours. We used up a lot of energy and we should sleep for a while. Who will take first watch? We can’t take any chances. There are guards and watchers, and traps here. They did not imprison the Merlin just to leave his prison open for anybody to stumble over.”
The thought of sleep, after the long, chill march, sounded divine. I just wished we could light a fire. But again, advertising our presence wasn’t in our best interests. At least we were out of the elements, and while it was still cold, the wind wasn’t eating into our bones.
We paired off in watches of two hours each. A good six hours of sleep would do us all a world of good, and if we set four posts, that meant everybody would have time to recharge. Unfortunately, because of the animosity between our two groups, I ended up being paired with Mordred for third watch. As long as I could keep him out of arm’s reach, I should be okay. I trusted Bran more than Mordred. Bran was openly hostile; Mordred was a little weasel.
Morgaine and Tanne took the first watch, Bran and Delilah the second. When Delilah woke me up, she told me that Bran hadn’t said a single word during the watch. Instead, he’d fixed his stare on the line of crystals and never wavered, seeming to sink into a deep meditation with his eyes open.
“Which was just fine with me. If Mordred lays a hand on you, you scream bloody murder. You hear me?” She arched an eyebrow to let me know she was serious.
I nodded. “You got it. I doubt he’ll cause trouble, given the situation, but you never know. I hope he’ll just pass out and leave me to keep watch on my own. I can handle that. Four hours of sleep helped a lot, though I’m looking forward to the last two. Pray nothing happens before we’re all awake and into the depths of the cavern.”
As she settled down under her blanket and pulled it tightly around her, I peeked outside. The storm was still blowing and the snow was piling up, but the wind still channeled through the pass rather than into the cave. Unless Beira returned in a fury, it shouldn’t do more than slow us down when we made the return trip home, which I hoped would be tomorrow at some point.
Mordred was perched on a rock, his blanket around his shoulders. I shook my own blanket out, then wrapped it around me snuggly, and sat near Delilah and Morio, watching the line of crystals. I did my best not to catch Mordred’s attention. The last thing I wanted to do was invite conversation.
From this angle, the crystals along the floor looked like creatures—like scorpions, actually. The light within them flickered, glowing softly against the cavern floor. They were about four feet long and thirty inches tall, and I found myself entranced by the shimmer radiating off of them. Was this what Bran had been watching? Had he, too, been magnetized by their sparkling prisms?
Ten minutes into our watch, Delilah and Bran both had fallen asleep. I really didn’t relish two hours spent in my thoughts. The more I settled into them, the harder it was to dig my way out. Only movement could bring me out of the depths—sex, or dancing. Magic and music helped, too.
I had a pocket watch with me to keep time. I couldn’t wear Earthside watches. Something about the magical energy I ran stopped them. Actually, I knew several FBHs who had the same problem and almost all of them were either psychic, or actively worked with magic. Lindsey Cartridge, the director of the Green Goddess Women’s Shelter, was one of them. She also was High Priestess of an ES neo-pagan coven. The magic of full-blooded humans was far different from my own, but it had its own power and beauty, and when practiced by those who had perfected their craft, it could be surprisingly strong.
“So, what do you think we’ll find?” Mordred’s question was soft enough not to wake the others, but clear enough to intrude into my thoughts.
I frowned, wandering if I could get away with pretending I hadn’t heard him, but finally decided that would just lead to an altercation. And I wasn’t in the mood to rumble.
“I don’t know, to be ho
nest. I hope we find the Merlin.” After a pause, I couldn’t help but add, “I think.”
The look on his face told me he was on the same page. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, as if thinking. “You know, I wonder if the powers that be realize just how dangerous the Merlin might be. Who’s to say what the old boy might decide he wants to do when he’s woken up? He might very well decline to fight this wyrm. Or he might choose to fight on the side of Telazhar. If I had my way, I’d forget this and just prepare to battle it out when Yvarr breaks out of his prison.”
I stared at the crystals, thinking over what he had said. “Unfortunately, I have my orders. As does your aunt. We have no choice. We’re bound by our duty.”
“Didn’t the ES soldiers say that during the great wars?” Mordred turned a snarky grin on me and once again, I felt squirmy, in a bad way, like someone had just bathed me in slime. “But then, I suppose none of us have any choice. My aunt saved my father—don’t look surprised. I know you know who he really is.”
“But he . . . doesn’t . . .”
“No, and I’m not going to tell him. Why shake him up? He’s happy enough to be with us, though I find it disturbing that he seems to have a crush on my aunt. She’s his sister, for the sake of the gods. But I know she wouldn’t act on it.”
His sister . . . So Morgaine was Arturo’s sister after all. That answered one question.
“She humors him. Consider it Alzheimer’s, brought on by the Nectar of Life.” He sighed, staring down at the floor then. “I love my father. You don’t like me, and I don’t like you very much. But never doubt that I love him, and I’d die to protect him. I almost did, once. And history vilified me and turned me into a traitor.”
I didn’t want to like him—didn’t want to feel sorry for him—but I could hear the pain in his voice. I could also hear the pride when he spoke of protecting his father, and I realized that it had to have been hard, spending century after century being looked on as a villain when you actually had been a hero.