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The cave had vanished. They were standing in ancient woodland, the ground thick with moss. Ahead, on a rocky mound, stood a silver tower that shone in the sunlight, its door and windows flung open. The whole place had an air of desolation and decay.
Tom’s skin prickled with unease, which soon turned to alarm as he realised he was standing next to a huge brown bear and a magnificent stag. The bear roared, and Tom backed off quickly, tripping and landing on the ground. But the bear ignored him and padded into the undergrowth. The stag gazed at Tom with liquid brown eyes and then moved off to graze in a patch of sunlight filtering down through the canopy. Tom realised the stag was Orlas, so the bear must be Arthur.
They were enchanted; he was alone.
Tom spun around, trying to orientate himself, but found it was impossible. He felt as if he’d been transported back hundreds of years; something in the air felt old and mysterious. And where were they? Had she transported them out of the cave, or were they still in it? And if he wasn’t enchanted, how could he see the grove?
Panicking, Tom looked round for Nimue, and saw her entering the silver tower. He raced to catch up with her, clambering over the rocks to the entrance. Nimue didn’t turn round. Ever since the binding spell had been lifted, she’d completely ignored them, as if they were irrelevant.
Tom paused on the threshold, looking up at the tower. He stroked the burnished wall; it really did look like silver. Close up, he could see curious engravings all around the doorway. The door itself was also silver, thick and solid, and beyond it was a sitting room in which a large chair sat next to a fireplace. Despite the sunshine outside, a small fire burned in the grate. Rugs were scattered across the floor, and the room was filled with sunlight reflecting off the silver walls. As the light danced around the room, he was reminded of being underwater in the Emperor’s palace when he had visited the Eye.
Opposite him was a staircase, and before he had a chance to change his mind he crossed the room and started climbing the steps.
On the next level was a bedroom, luxuriously furnished with tapestries and rugs, and a bed piled high with pillows. This room was also empty, so he continued up the stairs. At the top was a small landing with a door that was partly closed. He could hear movement behind it, so he eased it open a little further, peering into the room beyond.
It was a workshop, filled with wooden benches, its walls crowded with shelves, and everything stacked high with books and papers, and hundreds of pots and jars of all sizes. Again a fire burned in the fireplace, and a large cauldron was suspended over it.
But this room wasn’t empty. On the floor in front of the fire was the inert body of a man. He had long white hair and a thick white beard, and was wearing a long, grey, hooded robe. Crouched by his side was Nimue. Her back was to Tom, but he could see her hand stroking his face. Then her shoulders dropped and she sat back on the floor, her hands cradled in her lap.
Tom wondered what to do. He didn’t want to disturb her, but equally he had to know what was happening. And Merlin – because that must be him lying on the floor – appeared to be dead.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Immediately, Nimue leapt to her feet and turned, her hands raised.
“No!” Tom shouted, stepping back a pace. “I just want to talk to you.”
She laughed and looked relieved. “Oh, it’s you.” Then her expression turned confused as she asked, “Why aren’t you enchanted, like the others?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Curious,” she said, suddenly interested in him. “You look normal enough. Ah!” she exclaimed. “You must possess a talisman.”
Tom wondered what she was talking about. “I don’t care. Why have you enchanted the others? Why is Arthur a bear?”
“A bear?” she said, laughing. “That’s unexpected. That was his old name, Arturus, because of his bear-like qualities. In magic, we call it his animal spirit. This place, the spell, must have released it. Anyway, they are enchanted because I don’t like being threatened.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have imprisoned Merlin,” Tom answered swiftly. “You’ve killed him, haven’t you?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Watch your tongue, boy, or it will soon be mine, talisman or not.”
“Is he dead?” he persisted.
“No. That is why the spell still exists. He is unconscious. Unrousable.”
Despite the fact he’d never known Merlin, Tom was relieved to know he was still alive. “Where are we?” he asked, slightly mollified.
“Still in the cave, of course,” she said, smirking.
“But how can that be? Where is all this coming from?” He gestured around him.
“My magic. Or should I say, Merlin’s magic. I asked him to teach me the spell for how to imprison a man, and this is it.” She leaned back against the bench, watching him.
“But why is it so ... non-prison-like?” he asked, for want of a better word.
“Foolish boy. People are willing to imprison themselves in all sorts of things as long as it’s comfortable enough.”
“So, how long has he been lying there?”
“I have no idea. I used to visit him at first, but then I just got bored, and he never seemed to miss me, so ...” Her voice trailed off.
Overcome with curiosity, Tom asked, “Can I see him?”
She shrugged. “If you wish,” and she moved aside to let him pass.
He crossed the room and knelt next to Merlin, turning him over to see him properly. He looked as if he was sleeping; an old man who’d dozed off in front of the fire, creases lining his face, his mouth carrying the remnants of a smile. He certainly didn’t look like a powerful wizard – not that he knew what one should look like. He felt inexplicably sad, and found himself worried about Arthur, who would be so upset.
Nimue interrupted his thoughts. “There’s nothing else I can do, so I’m leaving.”
He stood and faced her. “You can’t leave us here; we’ve done nothing to you!” And then he realised that if he was to figure a way out of here, he needed to understand what had happened. “Why are we in the spell if you were releasing it?”
“You are so naïve. Because I didn’t release it. I thought releasing it would definitely kill him, which would have been bad news for me, with Arthur and Orlas breathing down my neck. So I just decided to re-enter it, as I have done before, and you all came too. If I had decided to recast the spell you would all be in your own prisons.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The spell imprisons a person in his own idea of pleasure. For Merlin that is nature. He is – was – a Druid, so nature is everything to him. Here he has trees, herbs, his workshop, everything he needs to make himself happy. I even gave him his sacred grove.”
She crossed to the window. “Orlas and Arthur see Merlin’s prison; it is not of their own choosing, but nevertheless, they are happy here. For now. I have no idea how long that will last, as to be quite honest I have never brought anyone with me before. I wasn’t even sure it would work.”
Tom joined her at the window and watched them amble through the trees and around the tower.
She gazed up at him. “What sort of man are you?” Her voice had dropped to a seductive murmur. “I would like to know what prison you would be in.”
As he looked down into her green eyes, he could think of nothing except how pretty she was, and his gaze drifted across her face and down to her lips. “Why do you look so young, if you’re as old as Vivian?”
She laughed. “Because Vivian’s appearance is an affectation. She chooses to look that way. She says it is useful to remind herself of her great age.” She stepped closer to Tom, almost whispering, causing him to lean in closer to her. “I think she does it because age suggests great wisdom.” Smiling conspiratorially, she added, “I prefer to have people underestimate me.”
And they’d certainly done that, he thought. Annoyed with himself, he stepped back to clear his head. “Release the spell now, and then go. I won’t stop you. Arthur was your friend. And he’s a fair man, you know that.”
She stood for some moments thinking, and then shook her head. “I can’t. If I release him then I release Orlas, that damn man who bound my powers and locked me up for days.”
“But how long will the spell last?” Tom asked, desperately trying to find a way out of this.
“Forever. Probably.”
“People will search for us! And you. We weren’t the only ones looking for you and Merlin.”
“They’ll have a long search.”
“You know Vivian sent us here. Once she knows we’ve disappeared, she’ll come to find us. And she’ll still be looking for you! She was worried about you. Don’t you care about that?”
Nimue looked absently out of the window again. “She shouldn’t have bothered. She knows I can take care of myself.” Abruptly she turned. “What’s your name again?”
“Tom.”
“Well, Tom, it’s been very nice to meet you, but you’ve distracted me enough. I need to cast another spell to get out of here, which is, to be quite honest, long winded and difficult, and one I avoid doing if at all possible. I’m going to put you to sleep for a while so I can cast uninterrupted.”
“Wait! How do we break the spell? What if we wait until you’ve gone?” And then he realised what she’d said. “You’re going to do what to me?”
She stepped even closer to him, making him edge backwards until his back was against the wall. Pressing her fingers to his forehead, she smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”
The last thing he remembered was a feeling of overwhelming tiredness and a rising wall of blackness as he slid to the floor, unconscious.
