EVERYTHING IS SWIRLING around Merlin. He has no idea where he is, or how long things have been spinning around him like this, or how he has gotten here in the first place. His past, present, and future…all matters which he usually has a fairly good bead on…are a jumble. It even takes him long moments to remember his own name or his status in the world…wherever the world has gone. He feels a dull aching in his chest, and isn’t sure where the ache has come from or why he is being subjected to this apparently endless torment.
He cannot tell if he is breathing, or if his heart is even beating. His ears are filled with the howling sound of the ocean, a massive roaring of waves crashing like a violent storm happening, all in his head. His limbs wave about helplessly as he tries to get some sense of up and down, and fails utterly. He is as helpless as a leaf in a hurricane, with no more command over his destiny than that. He tries to shout for help, and that is not something that comes easily to him, for his pride is a vast and daunting thing. But cry out he does, to no avail. Not only isn’t he certain whether he could make his voice heard over the beating of the waves, but he can’t hear his own voice at all. For all he knows, water has filled his throat and lungs and he isn’t able to make a sound.
He spirals down, down, or perhaps up, up, and suddenly he has a sense of the vortex beginning to let up. The thundering of the storm is receding. The water no longer seems to be pitching him around but instead easing him toward something, some ultimate destination. He calls out again, shouting for Arthur, cursing Nimue, and still neither is heard even by him.
And then, just like that, he is no longer moving.
The world of water has ceased moving crazily around him. He is not, however, remotely certain of where he is. He looks around what at first seems like nothing but water, then slowly starts to perceive details. There are columns surrounding him, tall columns towering high as far as the eye can see. No light is filtering through from on high, but the environment is benefiting from bioluminescence, casting the world around him in eerie blues and greens.
He feels neither warm nor cold, neither the iciness of frigid water nor the heat of a tropical current. He stands there for a long moment, then tries to take a step. He does not walk so much as float several feet before settling again. He considers this mildly odd, but not too much so. He has lived a very long life and it takes a good deal to get a reaction out of him that goes much beyond, “Well, this is interesting.”
He says it aloud because, well, it truly is interesting, although he still doesn’t hear his voice. Beyond that, he doesn’t know for sure what to make of it, but he can take some reasonably educated guesses.
Nimue! Merlin calls out. The fact that he does still not perceive his own voice doesn’t mean anything. She will hear it. Nimue, what have you done!
Saved your life, silly boy, comes Nimue’s response. He doesn’t hear it through his ears; instead he hears it within his head. The Spear Luin impaled you. Did you truly think you would have survived that without my intervention?
Yes, I would have! I didn’t need your help!
Her laughing voice rings between his ears. And yet you stood there on the edge of the water and begged me to help you. To aid you in finding the Spear. Well…you found it. Does that not warrant at least some token of thanks from the mighty Merlin?
Thank you, he replies sourly. He studies the blood-soaked shirt, then pulls it up and aside to examine the wound. It is a fierce, gaping thing. It has, however, ceased bleeding. How long have I been here? Hours? Days?
Time does not pass in this realm as it does in others, she informs him. I have no idea how much time has gone by in the outside world.
And where is here, this realm?
My home, sweet Merlin. The realm of the Clear. All water passes through here. Here I make my home, here is the nexus of all such realities. Time here is fluid, as are all other things. And you will reside with me here.
The hell I will! Merlin rages. You betrayed me! Betrayed me to whoever that spear wielder was!
I did not betray you. I was simply being loyal to my lover.
Lover, he says in disgust. You love him, and you would love me too? Don’t you think that kind of diminishes the strength of your love?
Of course not. The tide flows two ways with equal strength. Does that make it any less the tide?
Merlin attempts to stalk back and forth, and does not entirely succeed as he once again floats from one area to the next. He feels that his annoying buoyancy does little to afford him the gravitas he feels he deserves. I don’t understand how any aspect of you, tides or no, can possibly ally itself with someone who supposedly wants to annihilate the Earth.
He has no desire to do that. He just wants to annihilate the humans who walk the Earth.
That’s the same thing.
No, it truly isn’t, she replies. You keep refusing to understand that. He reveres the Earth. He believes that humans are infecting it, hurting it. And who am I to say he’s wrong.
You’re the Lady of the Lake, that’s who!
She still has not appeared before him, but he can sense the pitying smirk that her tone of voice reflects. Yes, that’s right. And how many lakes have become filled with garbage? How many oil spills or toxic dumps have found their ways into the oceans? How many fish have been hunted so thoroughly into extinction that it’s upsetting the ecological balance? There were gods who…
Her voice trails off. The hesitation catches Merlin’s attention where her ranting was simply annoying him. He tilts his head like a dog trying to pick up a high-pitched sound. Gods who what?
She makes no response. Gods who what, Nimue?
He hears the water, or perhaps senses it coalescing, behind him before he actually turns to see it. Sure enough, there is Nimue, or Vivian, or the Lady of the Lake, floating there with her arms out to either side.
Gods who watched humans when they first oozed their way out of the primordial slime and dragged themselves up to shore, Nimue tells him, and they looked upon those poor, pathetic, early incarnations of humanity, and said, “These are going to be nothing but trouble in the long run, mark our words.” And lo and behold, they were right. They were as right as any gods could be. But they stood by and allowed mankind to grow and develop, because they saw how eventually they could be used. Your beloved Arthur is playing into that, and now, so have you.
You don’t seriously think this place can hold me, do you?
She laughs lightly. I most certainly do. Your blood has touched a body of water, Merlin. That blood is all I need to keep you here for as long as I desire. In other words, forever, while my beloved attends to greater matters.
He pounds his fists against the blanket of water that envelops him. You can’t do this, Nimue! By all the gods, you cannot! Arthur needs me! Even now he wilts under the awareness that I have disappeared again. I must attend to him, and to the backstabbing bastard who caught me in that cowardly attack.
Well, says Nimue, as it so happens, I have my reason and desires for keeping you right where you are. Get used to it, Merlin Demonspawn. You are going to be with me for a very, very long time. Or would you rather I’d have let you die?
It would take far more than one idiot with a spear to kill me!
Do not worry. She smiles. There is much, much more.
And with that comment, Nimue releases her hold on the attractive form she is presenting him. It dissolves around her as her body rejoins with the elements around her, and within moments she is gone.
Merlin endeavors to imitate her. He calls upon his abilities, tries to remove himself from her sphere of influence. But the forces that he calls upon to transport him away from this place do not answer him. He is cut off.
Isolated.
Trapped.
Nimue! Merlin shouts in frustrated impotence, and her name echoes and echoes in the vast flowing void, but there is nothing now except his voice and the endless crashing of the seas.
And somewhere far, far away, a hand with long fingers is staring at a globe in which the minuscule form of Merlin is visible. He pumps his tiny fists in frustration. The tiny Merlin does not see out, but the holder of the sphere can see him perfectly. The water swirls around like a snowglobe, and his face draws closer and studies the trapped mage with fascination.
The demonspawn is contained, observes the man known as Cardinal Ruehl, while others in the darkness nod in agreement. Now…to attend to his leader…