16

“Brian.…”

He shut his eyes even more tightly, turned away from the voice and tried to pull his cloak around him, for he was cold and tired and didn’t want to wake yet. But there was no cloak.

“Brian,” said the voice again, urgently, insistently.

He gave up and opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor of the great hall of Urlik’s castle, and Tertius was bending over him. He stared at him for a moment then, remembering, sat up.

“Lianor?” he asked. “Migbeg?”

“They’re all right,” said Tertius. “Here, let me help you.”

He held out his hand, and Brian took it and, with some difficulty, got to his feet. For he was not only cold from lying on the stone floor, but stiff as well. Migbeg was already standing, and the king was helping Lianor up and putting an arm around her, for she was shivering.

“You’ve been asleep,” said Tertius. “Or at least you seemed to be. Not just the two of you, but Lianor too.”

“I went with them,” explained Lianor.

“That’s what we thought,” said Tertius. “Though we did not know how you had done it. We did not want to wake you or call you back because we thought you might still be able to do what you set out to do. But …”

“But we did!” said Brian. “We found Merlin and Blaise, freed them and brought them back with us.”

Something in Tertius’ face made him break off. He turned and, for the first time, looked at the dais. By the dim light that came through the lancet window behind it—the first light of a gray, overcast day—he saw Merlin and Blaise sitting on their thrones, sitting as still and stiff as when he had last seen them, their faces expressionless and their eyes blank and staring.

“But we did do it!” he repeated. “Lianor broke the spell with the word and sign that Venantius gave her.” He turned to her for corroboration, and she shook her head.

“I thought so too. But many things happened there—or seemed to happen—that could not have happened.”

“But this wasn’t the same. They didn’t speak or seem to know us, but they came with us. Perhaps, if you did it again now.…”

“Peace, Brian,” said Arthur gently. “You did what you could, but there is little time for any more. It is almost dawn. That is why we woke you.”

Brian looked at the window again. It faced west so he could not see the sun but only the heavy, low-hanging clouds over the sea.

“But it will not take any time. Try it, Lianor. You must try it!”

“Very well,” said Lianor. She held out her hand, and once more, Migbeg gave her his spear. With its flint point, she scratched the three lines on the stone floor and said the word of power. She was still holding the spear when the door opened, and Urlik and Nimue came in, followed by a dozen men-at-arms.

Going straight to his throne, Urlik sat down between Merlin and Blaise. Nimue took her place behind him, and the men-at-arms stationed themselves about the walls. Nimue was in a crimson robe this morning, but Urlik wore the same dark robe he had worn before, and his black crown was on his head.

“I trust you rested well, Arthur?” he said.

“Well enough,” said the king quietly.

“Not so well, I hope, that you did not think about the offer I made you.”

“There was no need to think about it. I gave you my answer.”

“And you have not changed your mind?”

“No, Urlik.”

“So be it. Your friends outside the wall grow restive. I quieted them by telling them that you would speak to them. And speak you shall. For I will give you time to say farewell to them before you die.”

“And then?” asked Arthur.

“Need you ask? They will launch an assault on the castle—which they have not done yet for fear I would injure you. The assault will fail, but it will keep them here until my army arrives, surrounds and destroys them.” Then, to the men-at-arms, “Take him to the wall over the gatehouse.”

Though he knew that it was useless—that Urlik could disarm him with a wave of his hand as he had done before—Brian drew Starflame. And as he did, Merlin and Blaise both moved again—not almost imperceptibly as they had in the underground chamber, but definitely and decisively. Both rose. Merlin brought his hand down in a slashing gesture, and a pillar of flame roared up from the stone floor in front of Urlik, blinding him and everyone else in the great hall.

As Brian staggered back, shielding his eyes, someone caught his arm.

“Your sword, Brian,” said a voice he had not heard in some time. “Quickly!”

It was Merlin, who, with Blaise, had hurried down from the dais to join them. Dazed and incredulous, Brian gave him Starflame. Merlin drew a circle around all of them with it, and again flames leaped up so that they were surrounded by a ring of fire.

“Then we did bring you back!” said Brian. “We did free you!”

“Yes,” said Merlin. “But the spell was a strong one, and we were under it for a long time. We had to wait until our powers had returned to us.”

Joyfully, Brian embraced him, and Merlin patted him on the back, gripped the king’s hand and that of Tertius. But he did this all absentmindedly, his face grim and his eyes on the dais.

Looking past the pillar of fire, Brian saw that Urlik had recovered. He gestured, and the column of fire vanished and the flames that surrounded them died, leaving only a ring of white light.

Leaning forward on his throne, Urlik looked long and hard at Merlin.

“So you finally broke my spell, Merlin,” he said.

“Not I, Urlik. I had friends who did it.”

Urlik’s eyes went to Tertius, then back to Merlin.

“That pupil of yours. Nimue warned me about him.”

“It was not he alone. Others helped.”

“It does not matter. The end will be the same. I overcame you once. Do you think you can stand against me now?”

“You took me by surprise then. We shall see.”

“Yes. We will.”

Urlik jerked his head, and Nimue came forward to stand beside him. At the same time, Blaise moved over to stand next to Merlin. For several moments, they were all still, with Merlin’s eyes, and Urlik’s, fixed on one another. Though nothing was said or done, Brian could feel the tension, as when two champions circle one another, swords ready, each studying the other and searching for an opening.

Suddenly, Urlik’s hand shot out, and from the four corners of the great hall, long darts like spears of ice sped toward the group that was huddled within the circle of light. But when Urlik moved, Merlin moved also. He gestured, and the ring of light shot upward into a white wall. The spears of ice struck it and were shattered.

Once more, all was still for a moment. Then Urlik made a sweeping pass, and a shape began to take form in the darkest corner of the great hall. It became larger and larger and, as it moved out into the light, they could see that it was an enormous serpent, its body thicker than that of a man. Urlik’s first attack had come so suddenly and Merlin’s response had been so quick that it was all over before Brian had realized what was happening. This time, the deliberate movements of the serpent increased Brian’s horror. It writhed forward slowly, its dark body gleaming, and its jaws agape. Reaching the ring of light, it turned and began moving around it, its forked tongue flickering. Then, when it had encircled the ring and all those within it, its coils tightened, contracted—and such was its strength that the ring began to give, become smaller.

Brian reached for Lianor and pulled her close to him. Merlin still held Starflame. He raised it and another sword, like Starflame except that it had a blade of fire, appeared in midair outside the ring of light. He brought Starflame down, and the other sword slashed down also, cutting off the serpent’s head. It reared up, its body jerking spasmodically; then it disappeared, and the ring of light regained its original shape.

Again Urlik remained still for a moment. Then his hand shot out and up. And this time, the shape that appeared materialized out of the darkness over their head, inside the ring of light. Like the serpent, it was huge. It was not a bird, for its wings were leathery, batlike. It had a long neck, and its open mouth was armed with several rows of sharp teeth. It came diving down at them from the rooftree of the great hall with such speed that Brian barely had time to tighten his arm around Lianor.

But quick as Urlik had been, Merlin was quicker. He raised Starflame, pointing, and from the very center of the magic ring, a tree shot up. It was a white tree—a tree of light. Its branches extended over all their heads, sheltering them, and each branch was armed with long, gleaming thorns. The winged monster crashed into the tree, the thorns piercing its body in a dozen places. It screamed shrilly, then it and the tree both disappeared.

Urlik nodded. “You are as skillful as I heard you were, Merlin. And for an old man, still quick. But shall we give over this child’s play?”

“It was not play, Urlik, as you well know.”

“No. But it was not a true test of strength. Dare you commit yourself to that?”

For a moment, Merlin hesitated. “It must finally come to that, must it not? You and what you stand for against all on our side.”

“Your side! What remains of your side but a small island whose king I already hold in the hollow of my hand?”

“A king you could not buy or bend to your will. That could be enough, Urlik.”

“Not if he dies. As he shall. And his army with him!”

“That remains to be seen. Still, it might be as well to settle the matter here and now as have it drag on for years and continue to lay waste a whole world.”

“Then you will do it?”

Again Merlin hesitated. Then, “Yes,” he said.

He handed Starflame back to Brian, took a deep breath as if gathering himself together then made a circular motion with his right hand, and the ring of light that had surrounded them faded and disappeared.

Urlik had settled himself in his iron throne as a warrior settles himself in the saddle before a charge. His green eyes glowed like those of a hungry wolf and, when the ring of light faded, they sought Merlin’s and held them while Nimue, at his side, fixed her eyes on those of Blaise.

There was silence. And while, as before, nothing seemed to be happening, Brian sensed that forces beyond his comprehension were engaged in an unseen struggle—that all of Merlin’s knowledge and will was locked in combat with Urlik as that of Blaise was with Nimue.

The room became colder with a deathly chill. The wind outside freshened, and there was a clinking sound. Brian glanced up over Urlik’s head and saw a length of chain blow in through the window behind the dais and then swing out again. A chain—the one Tertius had hung from Migbeg’s sword on top of the keep. It was still there then. And though Tertius had said it was some kind of magic, it had done them little good.

Brian brought his attention back to the silent struggle that was going on in the great hall. Merlin’s face was strained, and in spite of the chill in the air, there were beads of sweat on his forehead and on Blaise’s. Though Nimue was pale, she seemed composed, while Urlik’s expression and manner had not changed at all. His eyes still fixed on Merlin’s, he looked like a wrestler who, while grappling with an antagonist of almost equal strength, knows that he still has reserves on which he can call.

Arthur stirred. “Is there nothing you can do to help?” he whispered to Tertius. “In spite of what Merlin said, I do not think they have their full strength back. In any case, they are sore beset.”

Tertius started. He had been intent but quiet since the silent struggle started, like one caught on the fringe of a great battle and dazed by the noise, confusion and movements back and forth.

He nodded abruptly and raised his eyes to the window behind the dais. A tense look came over his face much like the one when he had tried to change the direction of the wind at Kerrec and, noting it, Lianor said, “Easy. Remember the gentian.”

He glanced at her, forced a smile, then turned to the window again, making a complicated pass. There was a rumble of thunder in the distance, then another. Urlik’s eyes went to him for a moment, then back to Merlin’s. The veins in Urlik’s forehead stood out as if he were putting forth all his strength. The sound of the wind grew louder and, once more, the end of the length of chain whipped in through the window, almost touching the back of Urlik’s iron throne, then disappeared again. This time, Nimue half turned to see what was happening and at once—as soon as she took her eyes from Blaise—she winced as if she had been struck a heavy blow and went reeling back almost to the wall behind her. Then, catching herself, she came forward to join the struggle again.

Tertius’ eyes were still on the window, his face intent. Again thunder rumbled, and now a flash of lightning lit up the great hall. It was still distant, but the thunder was almost continuous and growing louder. The veins in Urlik’s forehead were dark and knotted now, his teeth showing as he strained at what he was doing. And Merlin staggered and almost fell. Like Nimue, he recovered, but something seemed gone from him and, slowly, he was forced backward.

Tertius must have seen this out of the corner of his eye, but he did not turn. His attention remained fixed on the window. The lightning flashed again and again, filling the hall with fitful light. Then, as Urlik leaned forward, his strained look becoming one of triumph, there was a final, deafening crash that shook the whole keep. The chain whipped in through the window again, and, this time, the lightning was running down it. It leaped to the iron throne, and the throne itself flamed with an eerie blue light. Urlik stiffened, then fell forward and lay still, and Nimue, standing next to him, fell across him.

For a moment, no one moved. Then, with cries of terror, the men-at-arms, who stood about the walls, dropped their weapons and fled from the hall. Merlin’s knees gave way and, if Brian and Arthur had not taken him by the arms and held him, he would have fallen.

Straightening up, Merlin looked at Tertius.

“Did you do that?” he asked.

Tertius nodded.

“How? Urlik was said to be deathless.”

Tertius shook his head. “The White Lady said he was not—even though nothing on earth or of the earth could kill him. So I called up a thunderstorm and brought down lightning to do it.”

“This was more of that untimely knowledge of yours?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I said it might have some purpose that I was not aware of. It seems I was right.”

As Merlin looked at him thoughtfully, there were distant shouts and the clash of arms, and Arthur turned, listening.

“Our men have begun their assault. It may be that we can fight our way to the gatehouse, Brian, and lower the drawbridge for them.”

“Stay, Arthur,” said Merlin. “Tertius will do it.”

“From here?” said Tertius. “I’m not sure I can.”

“After what you did do?”

“There are things I can do and things I can’t. I still have much to learn.”

Merlin continued to look at him, then nodded. Turning, he gestured. There was a rumbling crash as the drawbridge fell, a sound of battering as the gate was burst open and the shouts and clash of arms grew louder as Sir Owaine led his men into the castle.

“I think we should join them,” said Arthur.

“There is no need,” said Merlin. “It is all over.”

“What about the rest of Urlik’s forces?” asked Brian. “He showed them to us in the magic mirror and said they were riding here.”

“Without Urlik, they are nothing. They are far from home, and now that they have no leader, they will return there. Do you agree, Blaise?”

“Yes, Merlin,” said Blaise. “As you said, it is over.” He was leaning on Migbeg’s arm, looking weary and more aged than ever.

“Though we stood side by side against Urlik and Nimue, we have not really talked yet,” said Merlin. “How goes it with you, old friend?”

“Well enough,” said Blaise. “But despite that sight, which I never expected to see,” and he indicated the bodies of Urlik and Nimue, “I do not like this place. I feel as if I have been here far too long.”

“You have been,” said Merlin. “The fighting outside must be over now also. If it is not, we will end it. In any case, we should go. But there is still much I do not know and much that should be talked about. So if it please you, Sire, I think we should gather at noon in your pavilion.”

“It pleases me well,” said Arthur.

The king’s pavilion faced west and, through the open doorway, they could see the castle with Arthur’s banner flying above the gatehouse and the sea beyond it. They were all there: Arthur sitting on a campaign chair with Merlin and Blaise on either side of him and the Duke of Cornwall, Sir Owaine and Sir Constantine behind him. On stools facing them were Lianor, Brian, Tertius and those who had come with them—Migbeg, Giles, Long Hugh, Hob and Wat.

The tale of all that had happened had been told, interrupted by the coming and going of scouts who confirmed Merlin’s statement about the Mongols. For, on Arthur’s orders, all those who had not been slain in the taking of the castle had been released to spread word of the death of Urlik and, at last report, his armies were not merely withdrawing but fleeing eastward, harried and pursued by all those whose lands they had conquered.

“Then it is as you said, Merlin, all over,” said Arthur.

“This much at least—this threat which was a great one,” said Merlin gravely.

“There will be others?”

“Nothing is won forever as nothing can be built that will last forever. If it were otherwise, what would there be for the young to do?”

“And what of those of us who are no longer young? What is there for us?”

“If we are fortunate, moments of peace—time to remember that which we have done and found good.”

“What I will remember,” said the king, “is not what I did, but what others did—all of you gathered here before me. For all of you played a part in this great adventure. And none of you shall lack proof of my love and gratitude.”

“I cannot speak for the others, Sire,” said Brian, “but if you are thinking of rewards, mine lies in this moment—in the knowledge that you and Britain are safe and that Merlin and Blaise are with us again to keep you both so.”

“I expected no less of you, Brian,” said the king. “Nor of the rest of you.” For they had all nodded their agreement. “But you must not deny me the pleasure of requiting you in whatever way seems most appropriate. In some cases,” and he looked at the outlaws, “that will be easy. In some,” and he looked at Lianor and Brian, Migbeg and Giles, “it will be less easy, but I am sure I will think of something I can do for you. However, you, Tertius, are a puzzle. For though, as I said, all of you played a part in this, in the end it was you who did what none thought could be done by destroying Urlik. How can I—or anyone—repay you for that?”

“And what have you done to repay me for all that I have done for you since the day you were born, Sire?” asked Merlin.

“I do not know that I have done anything, but I have loved you, honored you and trusted you.”

“That was my reward. And, in time, it will be his. But not yet. For,” turning to Tertius, “did you not say you still had much to learn?”

“Yes, Merlin.”

“Good. I am glad to see that what you know and what you have accomplished have not given you too good an opinion of yourself.”

“Which,” said Blaise with a faint smile, “is more than can be said of you, Merlin, when you were his age and my disciple.”