The lady laughed and waved her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll be glad to mail it for you.” She eyed Bonnie carefully once more. “I’ll send it the fastest way possible.”
“That’s awesome! I can’t thank you enough!”
“Just tell your friends back home to come out for a visit.”
Bonnie headed for the exit and turned back. “That card might just do the trick.”
Professor Hamilton straightened up, his body as stiff as a flagpole and his eyes glued to the amazing, giant creature bowing before him. The professor had said he expected strange events, but seeing a real dragon, and a prostrate one, no less, obviously caught him off guard. He clasped his hands together and cleared his throat. “Merlin? Why do you call me Merlin?”
The dragon peered through his partially closed eyes. “Master, I have not seen your face in over a thousand years, but your image was etched into my mind as surely as the commandments were chiseled into tablets of stone by the finger of God. I remain your humble servant, Clefspeare.”
“Clearly this is a case of mistaken identity, Mr. Clefspeare. My name is Charles Hamilton. I am a homeschool teacher, former professor at Oxford University, and specialist in Arthurian history and legends. Although I am very familiar with the history and myths surrounding Merlin, I assure you that I am not he.”
Clefspeare rose to his former sitting position and stretched out his neck. “Remarkable!” the dragon kept repeating as he moved his head to take in the teacher’s image from various angles. “Then it has happened! It must have happened!”
The professor kept his body stiff, but he moved his eyes to follow the dragon’s glowing face as it glided all around. “Sir, having a dragon such as yourself examining me with such fervor is quite unnerving. I shall be glad to answer whatever questions you wish to ask, but I must request that you proceed before I leap right out of my shoes.”
Billy grinned and slapped his hand over his mouth. “Yeah, Dad,” he said, speaking between his fingers. “What’s up?” He glanced over at Walter, and his friend’s composure surprised him. He was smiling, almost laughing, like he was enjoying a funny movie.
Professor Hamilton turned his head toward Billy, squinted, and mouthed, “Dad?”
“Yes,” Clefspeare said. “I am Billy’s father, in a manner of speaking. Forgive me for my emotional outburst. I was a human for over a dozen centuries, and seeing your face brought a flood of fond memories from days long ago. Though you did not know this before today, you are the image of Merlin, the great prophet, and, not only that, you carry his journal. The leather cover bears his scent to this day. But we will discuss your resemblance and how you came by the book in a moment. We have urgent business in Montana.”
The professor set the book gently on the ground and pulled a copy of the hospital photo from his coat’s inner pocket. “Yes, the matter of Bonnie Silver.” He displayed the photo for Clefspeare. “I assume that William has apprised you of all that he knows, but there have been new developments. Walter’s father has discovered a death certificate for Bonnie’s mother, so her father’s pretext was false. This makes his character that much more doubtful, even sinister, I would say.”
Clefspeare gazed at the photo for several seconds before responding. “You have spoken well; these developments are distressing. In order for me to help you, however, it is imperative that you understand my history. Being a man of sound intellect and training, I assume you want to know everything about how a dragon could be Billy’s father.”
“Yes, and any extraneous details that might help me combine your knowledge with my own to solve other puzzles we have unearthed.”
“Such as?”
The professor returned the photo to its place and retrieved Merlin’s Diary from the ground. “Such as this book. Its mystery is great. I have pondered its meager contents for hours, yet I have solved very little. We have also found Excalibur, but we don’t yet have it in our possession. It’s imbedded in a stone quite nearby, and I’m afraid King Arthur is no longer available to extract it.”
“I will help you understand the book soon enough,” Clefspeare replied. “Perhaps when I tell my story, you will figure it out for yourself as well as the mystery of Excalibur’s power. I advise all of you to have a seat. It is a long tale, and although Bonnie’s fate depends on swift action, I assure you that understanding this story will help you in rescuing her.”
The dragon waited for his audience to sit comfortably, and he raised his head high. First, with a puff of dense smoke, he blew out the torch, and blackness descended on the cave. Then, with a soothing, hypnotic tone, he spoke in a quiet voice, and the words reverberated in gentle echoes. “Do not be distracted by thoughts of the day or your cares for loved ones. Cast your eyes deep into the darkness and see the images of antiquity. Let your thoughts walk through the winding cave; let your minds wander into the past.
“I am Clefspeare, your guide into forgotten days, the age of knights and kings. Follow my light and see the ghosts of the past come to life before your eyes.” The dragon blew a ferocious stream of white-hot flame against the cave wall, filling the entire cavern with intense heat and light. Then, in a second, the blaze disappeared. Yet the wall held a glowing imprint of the flame’s violent massage. Fiery characters emerged, first a man wearing a crown and then a man and a woman in front of him, each on bended knee. They seemed to move, animated somehow by the crackling, pulsating cinders. As his listeners watched in awestruck silence, Clefspeare gave the characters voice.
“Clefspeare, I dub you Jared, son of Arthur.” The king tapped the bowing man’s shoulder lightly with a gleaming sword. “By this decree, I name you my son, though truly you are closer than any of my natural offspring.” He turned and tapped the lady’s shoulder, touching her long flowing blonde hair that draped her sparkling white gown. “And you, dear Hartanna, I dub Irene, for your very presence brings peace to my soul. You are now my daughter, a treasured princess, who I hope will always find peace within the walls of my palace.”
King Arthur lifted Excalibur from Irene’s shoulder and then handed the blade to an old man who stood uneasily at his right side. The sword maintained its faint white glow, strong enough to illuminate the wrinkled hands of the older man, yet it seemed no more than the brightest candle among the dozens that lined the inner court of the king’s palace. When the older man slid the sword into its sheath, the ornate scabbard swallowed the glow, allowing the candlelight to spread throughout the room.
The two men stood on a raised platform, not as high as a stage, but high enough to display the honor and authority of anyone who would sit on the throne at its center. Arthur lifted a scroll that had rested on a table at his side. “For your protection, I have entered your names as Reginald Bannister and Tabitha Silver in the official records as my adopted son and daughter. Hide your identities well, for if your enemies discover them, you will be chased by bloodthirsty hounds for centuries to come. I suggest choosing different surnames for yourselves for the time being, though you may return to Bannister and Silver to protect your inheritance when a safer time comes.”
Jared lifted his eyes toward the king and slowly stood up. “Sire, I humbly accept your gracious bestowal of your good name. May I always bring the name of Arthur honor and a good heritage.”
Irene stood at Jared’s side. “I, too, am honored, Your Majesty.” She rubbed her hand across her bare forearm. Her skin seemed to radiate silvery white. “Having shorn my scales, and with them the dignity of a dragoness, I feel clothed once again with the integrity, nobility, and heritage that your deeds have inspired. May I wear this livery well.”
King Arthur’s solemn face broke into a proud, fatherly smile. “Well spoken, my friends. I trust that I will be able to live up to my duty and keep you safe in your new skin. Have the other dragons taken the necessary steps to secure their safety?”
Jared glanced at Irene and then back at the king. “The ladies have taken new names and blended into life in the nearby vi
llages, as you instructed. We do not know, however, what has become of Irene’s brother, Valcor.”
The king’s brow lifted. “The other male dragon?”
“Yes. With Gartrand’s death, he and I are the only remaining males. He disappeared soon after our transformation.”
Arthur stroked his short, graying beard. “Hmmm. Perhaps his secrecy is for the best.”
Irene nodded. “That is what we thought. Devin will never be able to learn his whereabouts from us, even through torture.”
“Very true. And speaking of Devin, now that our ceremony is complete, we must make haste.” He turned to the man at his side. “Merlin, is there any new word?”
The older man raised a long staff and set its end on the platform floor. He placed Excalibur on his chair and cleared his throat. “No, Sire. My counsel stands. Devin’s traitorous band could attack at any moment. I have arranged for your knights to secretly assemble at Blood Hollow, so I suggest that you leave through your escape route at once to convene with them. Gawain will meet you at the tunnel exit and escort you to the other knights.”
Arthur strapped on his armor and weapons, then took his sword from Merlin’s seat.
Merlin grabbed Arthur’s wrist. “But you must leave Excalibur.”
Arthur pulled away from the prophet’s grip. He lifted Excalibur, extending his arms to display the sheathed sword in his palms. “Go into battle without the sword?” He strapped the scabbard to the belt around his waist. “I should say not!”
Merlin held out his hands. “I have more need of it. Devin’s tiny army is counting on surprise to win. When you arrive, your forces will crush him like a shoe on a cockroach. Should you come late, Excalibur is my only hope for survival.”
Arthur placed his hand on Excalibur’s hilt and hesitated, while outside the door the distant sound of clanking steps shattered the evening’s quiet meeting.
“There is no more time,” Merlin urged, his hands shaking. “Trust me! Leave Excalibur and fly to Blood Hollow. Gawain will have a sword for you.”
Arthur unfastened the sword from his belt, scabbard and all, and handed it to Merlin. He then scrambled to a door at the corner of a nearby wall and shut it behind him. The secret door disappeared from sight when its edge met the perfectly matched wall.
Jared hurriedly put his arms through the sleeves of a purple robe, not Arthur’s formal council robe, but one that the king often wore during evening meetings. “Should I put on the crown?”
Merlin helped him straighten out the sleeves. “No. Your hair is a close enough match, so the robe should be sufficient. Just keep your back to the door. I expect Devin to enter at any moment.” He turned to Irene. “You may face the door, kneeling before our ‘king.’ Can you make yourself cry?”
Irene shook her head. “Not without provocation. I have not yet learned all the ways of women.”
“Then try to look sad, as though entreating the king for someone’s life.”
Within seconds a servant came to the inner doorway of the court. “Sir Devin to see His Majesty.”
Merlin nodded to Jared, who spun around toward the back of the room. Irene dropped to her knees and extended her folded hands toward him, twisting her face in counterfeit pain. Merlin stepped to the entryway to intercept the quickly marching Devin. “His Majesty has a guest, Sir Devin. May I give him a message for you?”
Devin looked over Merlin’s shoulder at Irene and squinted for a few seconds. “Is the lady ill? She seems to be having intestinal distress.”
“Not sickness; her entreaty is a private matter. We will be in prayer for her for the next half hour, and then I shall escort His Majesty to his chamber if he wishes to go.”
Merlin noted a hint of a smile in Devin’s otherwise stoic expression. Devin bowed and spoke in his most formal and reverent voice. “Please give His Majesty my blessings, and I will spend the entire half hour on my knees as well.” Devin gave Merlin a polite nod. “Good evening to you, Master Merlin.” The knight left the court with the same quick march that brought him in.
When the door closed Jared turned around. “Do you think it worked?”
“I think so. A man who is not trustworthy rarely trusts anyone, yet, I believe that our ruse has convinced him that King Arthur is in this room.”
Irene stood and approached Merlin. “Then how soon will he attack?”
“He believes he has a half hour, so I would guess we have only half again of that before he strikes.” Merlin bent down and knelt on the platform, and Jared and Irene joined him. “We should pray, as I told Devin we would, but not for the lady’s entreaty, rather for the king’s quick return with his men.”
After a few moments of silence, Merlin stood and pulled Excalibur from its sheath. The sword blazed, and Jared jumped to his feet, his heart pounding at the sight of its brilliant, unearthly glow. Irene’s eyes widened to take in the beauty. It shone much more brightly than when its gentle flat side dubbed them Arthur’s adopted heirs. Now it looked ready to sever the heads of a thousand hardened soldiers.
Merlin waved the blade slowly, and a blinding beam of light shot from its tip and burned a hole through the ceiling. “It will cut boulders and oaks for any warrior that wields it,” he said, “but its greatest power is reserved for the hands of the holy.”
Merlin tilted his head upward as though talking to someone suspended in the air. “I am now certain that the king will not arrive in time. I will have to use Excalibur to extinguish the enemy, and in the process, I will conduct my greatest experiment.”
“Experiment?” Jared asked.
Merlin cast his gaze on Jared and Irene. “Excalibur does not merely cut,” he continued, “it transforms. It changes matter into light energy; it transluminates. If I wield it to kill, its radiance will shatter a man’s bones into shards of flashing luminescence, and his remains will be absorbed into a candle’s breath or crushed by the ignorance of a dark shadow. And his soul? If it is not somehow trapped on the earth, it will be sent straight to the judgment seat of God.”
Jared stared, enraptured by the old man’s explanation, while Irene stood equally transfixed, frozen in fear on the cold stone floor.
“Jared, you and Irene must enter the tunnel door for safety. When Excalibur’s power fills the room, all who remain will be transluminated, perhaps even you, though you now wear the king’s name. Since I bear the sword, I think I will not die, but since I am not of Arthur’s lineage, I am still vulnerable. I believe I will be changed.”
“Changed?” Irene asked. “Changed into what?”
“As with the rest, my body will likely become light energy, though I think I will survive. Whether I will live on in spirit or not, I cannot say. Perhaps I will come back in another form, as another person, restored to physical matter.”
“Reincarnation?” Jared asked. “As the heretics teach? May heaven forbid!”
“Not at all like reincarnation, Jared, but I am impressed. You have learned your theology well in such a short time, though you may need to learn to express it with a bit more grace. I’m hoping my adventure will be as Jesus taught when speaking of John the Baptist, ‘et si vultis recipere ipse est Helias qui venturus est.’”
“I . . . I do not understand.”
“Neither did his disciples, even when it was spoken in their own tongue, for they did not have ears to hear. You, on the other hand, have not yet learned Latin. It means, ‘And if you care to accept it, he himself is Elijah, who was to come.’” Merlin picked up an old book that rested next to his chair and showed Jared and Irene the back of the title page. “Can you read this?”
They looked over Merlin’s shoulder. “Yes,” Jared said, “The words are quite clear.”
Irene nodded her agreement. “I do not understand the riddle I see, but I am able to read the text.”
Merlin turned the page. “And now?”
Jared smiled at Merlin. “Is this some kind of jest, Master? The page is blank.”
Merlin put one hand over Jared’s ey
es. “It is as though a veil is covering your eyes.” He then lifted his hand and waved it over the page. “And now, Jared, son of Arthur, can you read it?”
Jared stared at the book’s crisp, clean page, and this time dark script appeared, beautiful handwriting, phrases cut into poetic lines. For some reason, however, he could not bring them completely into focus. “I see the writing, but it seems to float, as though I am seeing it through a thick dark glass. I cannot read it.”
“Before this day is over,” Merlin said, “the words on this page will become clear.” He placed the book into Jared’s hands and picked up Excalibur. “This is my perpetual diary. Guard it with your life. In some ways it is more dangerous than the great sword, but only a wise man will glean from its counsel. To understand its wisdom requires the brightest of lights and the greatest of the abiding gifts.”
They heard the sudden clanking of soldiers’ weapons and marching footsteps. Merlin pushed Jared and Irene toward the corner door. “Go! Go!”
They hurried to obey. Jared knew he had no place in this matter. Having become a human only a few weeks before, he understood neither his standing nor his responsibility in the domain of men. Holding the treasured diary in his arms and seeing Irene to a safe place in the low hallway, he shut the door almost completely. He left a crack, just enough to watch the action, but not enough, he hoped, to allow Excalibur’s lethal radiance into the secret chamber.
Two armed men broke down the door and stretched loaded bowstrings back to their ears. Merlin stood tall, holding the great sword in both hands, its point straight up. The men stopped, mesmerized by the brilliant glow, while six others poured through the door, each halting as they beheld the sword.
Jared searched through the faces but couldn’t locate Devin. Would he come later to try to assume the throne? The slimy worm! Letting his lackeys take the brunt while he prances on daisies out in the garden!
When a band of twelve or so had arrived, Merlin waved the sword in a great circle. The treacherous soldiers seemed rooted to the stone floor, their legs trembling like saplings in a storm’s fury. A single beam from Excalibur’s tip multiplied into hundreds, flashing in all directions until they joined together into a massive tidal wave of light.