Merlin's Shadow Page 27

  “They’ve taken Arthur! Atle’s taken Arthur and they’re gone!”

  PART THREE

  FOOL’S FAITH

  DARK AS THE DIRGE, THE SHARKS SWIMMING; SWIFT AS THE SWAN, THE CIRCLE SHINING; LOUD AS THE LASH, THE PAGANS PRAYING; GALL AS THE GRAVE, THE SLAYER SLAYING; FOR ANCIENT YOUTH, AND INNOCENT’S DEMISE.

  CHAPTER 28

  THAT WHICH IS LOST

  Merlin sat up, and Natalenya wept on his shoulder. He wanted to say something, but his tongue felt like wood and his head like ten fish swam in it. What had happened? Where was he?

  “Arthur — they’ve taken Arthur!”

  “I need water …” he croaked. Reaching out carefully, he wrapped his fingers around the spilled mug and peeked inside. It still had a little ale in it — good. The room spun for a moment, and then righted itself. Just as he brought it to his lips, Natalenya knocked it out of his hand, and it crashed to the floor. The echo felt like a hammer blow to his head, and he covered his ears.

  “It’s poisoned,” she said. I’ve been trying to wake you — all of you — since I found they had left.”

  “Huh?” He looked around. Colvarth lay sleeping on the table with his beard bent sideways. Curled on the floor next to Merlin rested Garth with a loaf of bread for a pillow. Caygek’s face lay in his arms, but his hand still cradled his mug of ale. Bedwir snored, a slight smile on his lips. Peredur … well, Peredur lay with his forehead in a tipped pot of stew. And everyone else in the hall had left; only their own group remained.

  In front of Merlin sat a trencher full of vomit. His clothes were stained as well.

  “You heaved right before you woke up,” she explained. “I tried to clean it up.”

  Every word she said echoed in his head like it was hollow. “I wish I hadn’t woken.”

  “But Arthur …”

  “He can sleep too.” Merlin covered his eyes. The light still filled the upper reaches of the hall and was just too bright.

  “Atle’s taken him!”

  The little dog pranced next to her and began barking.

  “That’s fine. We’ll see him in the morning. Help me get to my bed.” He tried to stand, but the floor wobbled underneath and he fell back to his seat.

  “You’re not listening. They’re gone!” Natalenya slapped him in the face again.

  His left cheek was already numb, and now his jaw hurt. “Gone?”

  “Everyone’s gone — except for guards outside. They wouldn’t let me pass, and they won’t tell me where Arthur’s been taken.”

  Merlin shook his head. Why did it hurt so bad? But Natalenya’s words finally began to sink in. Arthur was missing. Stolen from them while Merlin sat here sleeping … and retching. Taken while he sat stuffing his face. Taken while he tried to forget his misery. Taken while he drank too much. While he drank ale mixed with some foul concoction. All his prayers, all his hopes, all his work, all his awful, god-forsaken choices had been intended to protect Arthur. And then, on the very edge of their freedom, Merlin had lost him.

  Anger filled his chest, thumping with a burning fury, and from it a measure of strength flowed to his arms. He stood, shaky at first, and took a deep breath, steadying himself on Natalenya. Faithful Natalenya who had never given up on him, despite all his failures. His sins. His self-pity. His doubts.

  “You can find him, Merlin. I know you can. Let’s wake the others.”

  They dashed the faces of their companions with water from a cistern in the deserted kitchens — slowly waking them. Garth took the most splashes before he woke up, and even then he ignored their words until the dog started licking the slops of food on his chin. He told them he dreamed he’d been sailing. Bedwir groaned louder than any of the others, but also rose to action the fastest.

  When all the company was up, Merlin explained to them all that Arthur had been taken.

  “Taken by Atle?” Caygek asked. “We all know what that might mean …”

  Colvarth looked darkly at the druid. “Let us hope, to the Almighty God, that your conjecture is false.”

  Merlin sent them out to survey what could be discovered of their situation. Garth and Peredur went to investigate the upper floors, Bedwir to verify Natalenya’s reports about the guards, and Caygek to check on the state of provisions in the larder.

  Merlin and Colvarth helped the breathless Natalenya create a place to rest on the main floor by pulling off some husk-stuffed cushions from the benches. In her condition, it was amazing she had found the strength to rouse Merlin and to help rouse the others.

  Bedwir reported back first. “It seems we are still considered guests here, but guests that cannot leave, or so Digon, the guard, says. Atle instructed him to post thirty warriors around the building day and night, and that we had better not try to escape — upon penalty of death. I asked him how long this was for, and he said we were free to enjoy the hospitality of the hall until at least ten days have passed.”

  Next, Caygek detailed the state of their provisions. “We’ve got enough to get through for a bit, including water, smoked meat, and grain — but little else. It seems they’ve taken the best with them.”

  Garth jumped down the steps three at a time, and gave his and Peredur’s report. “Atle’s quarters are locked, and the rest’s been abandoned,” he said. “We looked out in all directions, and the outer wall is all manned by warriors, includin’ the two gates. Even if we broke out o’ here, Peredur doesn’t think we could escape the fortress.”

  “Certainly not all of us,” Colvarth said, shaking his head. “So what shall we do?”

  Merlin weighed their options. “Whatever Atle is up to, it can’t be good or he wouldn’t have snuck off after putting us all to sleep.”

  Bedwir suggested they try a weak point of the wall and scale down, but Merlin made it clear that Natalenya could not attempt such a thing.

  Peredur suggested they bribe the guards, but Colvarth scoffed at the idea. “We have nothing to give except what Atle already owns, and when he returns he’ll punish them for it. No, I do not think they will take a bribe from us.”

  A great debate ensued until Caygek raised his hands to silence everyone. “I have an idea that will get us out of here. But we all have to be willing to risk it.”

  Merlin urged him on.

  “I say we break up the tables and light them on fire right by the eastern door, then sneak out the west doors and escape through the gate while the warriors are trying to put it out.”

  Everyone looked to Merlin to see what he thought. What did he think, besides the fact that his head still hurt from the tainted ale? He rummaged his brain for a better idea, but none came to him, and he had to admit that Caygek’s idea made sense. Atle had honored the age-old custom of not ill-treating guests under one’s roof — yet had still betrayed them, and deeply.

  If their escape meant some charred wood or worse, then so be it. But just as Merlin verbally agreed to the plan, he heard a moan. Quiet it was, yet it echoed through the hall as if a ghost had passed through their midst.

  Mórganthu jerked as two of Vortigern’s brutes made moves to follow and catch Ganieda.

  “Let her go,” Vortigern shouted, calling them back. “I’m not here for her.”

  To make sure she remained safe, Mórganthu made his grand appearance. He pulled his stump of an arm out from the cords, popping off the sand and stick-filled glove. With his good hand free, he tugged the gag off and sat up. “It is I, yes, it is I — Mórganthu, whom you know. The weaver has fled only moments ago — and he has taken the daughters of Uther with him.” He pointed toward the back door of the house. “They’ve escaped under the wall through the kiln.”

  Vortigern flung Safrowana backward, and she fell roughly against the loom. “Fest and Enison, tie ‘em all up, then follow our trail … we may need your help.”

  The one with the spear grabbed some cords. “What’s about the druid? Haha, should I’s tie him back up too?”

  “Yes … if the girls get away, I want him to suf
fer,” Vortigern tapped the other two, one being the archer, and they ran out the back door of the house.

  The two brutes left behind began tying up the monk and Safrowana.

  While they were distracted, Mórganthu discreetly untied his legs. Then he kept a watchful eye while slowly sliding toward the back door. They didn’t turn until he was out of their reach. Mórganthu jumped up and ran into the back bedroom, where the fang lay.

  “Hey, stop’n, you!” the toothless brute shouted, tromping after him.

  Mórganthu crossed the floor, rounded a table, and made for the window.

  The man was right behind.

  He reached behind the loom shuttle. It was still there! He grabbed the fang just as the attacker laid hands upon him. Mórganthu held it tightly, and a thrill surged up his arm as he thrust backward, jabbing the fang into the man’s gut. He called on Belornos for the man’s death.

  The brute yelped, dropped his sword, and let go of Mórganthu’s tunic. Staggering back, he grabbed on to the doorframe as smoke and blood poured from the hole where he’d been struck.

  At the same time, a shock of pain ripped through Mórganthu, dizzying him. The room tilted, and he grabbed the sill.

  The brute scratched at his wound, yelling.

  Mórganthu’s own pain eased enough for him to take his chance. He snapped open the shutters and climbed through the window as the room behind him filled with a fretful scream. The gate — and his freedom — lay only steps away.

  Why hadn’t she taken her cloak, Ganieda wondered? Gone back and grabbed the fang? Did her grandfather have the orb? But these things didn’t matter, anymore, did they? She had lost something far more valuable than such things — she had lost love.

  All these months she’d believed that these people really loved her. Cared for her. But it was a lie. A black, infected lie. Infected by her brother. Infected by his coins. The weavers hadn’t loved her at all. They had loved the money that Merlin had given them. They had conspired against her. To keep her there. To trick her. To fill her head with their deceits.

  But she would have it no more. No more false love from a brother who had killed their father. Who had burned her home and set her adrift in the world. Who had killed her mother.

  Her mother.

  Had Ganieda forgotten? She tried to remember her mother’s face, but the visage of Safrowana, that liar, kept coming to mind instead. False love. False tenderness. False hugs. False instruction. False kisses. False games. False food. False everything. She yelled her curses to the wind, snowflakes flying into her hair and eyelashes. She ran.

  Where was her mother? Did she still rest in the vale where Ganieda had left her? Was she lonely for Ganieda? A powerful longing overcame her — to be held once more by her mother. Her real mother. To gaze up into her mother’s tender eyes. To feel the strength in her mother’s hard-working arms. To have her mother comb her hair again. To talk in their secret tongue, which Safrowana and all the others in the village did not, could not, understand. It had been so long.

  She ran down the village track and off into the woods. It wasn’t impossibly far. Just beyond the Keskinpry marsh, past a little-used road, and in a vale where a stream ran.

  Her mother would be waiting for her.

  Ganieda was sure of it.

  CHAPTER 29

  THAT WHICH IS FOUND

  Merlin caught his breath as the ghostly moaning faded away. Everyone’s eyes scanned the room. Garth jumped to the center of the group and peeked out from behind Bedwir. Even Natalenya, while petting the dog, sat up on her makeshift pallet to listen.

  “Just some wind through the upper windows,” Peredur said. “I heard the same thing before the feast.”

  But the sound filled the hall again, this time louder, and the clinking of chains could be distinctly heard.

  “Theh … aye … ney … vah …” called the disembodied voice. And a banging sound echoed — metal upon metal, jangling chain upon solid bar, followed by a muffled wail that sent shivers from the base of Merlin’s skull down to his feet.

  It was the woman Atle had put in the hall’s dungeon! God had showed it to him in his vision, and Merlin had forgotten all about her. He ran beyond the throne to where a low table stood — covered in dirty trenchers, half-consumed bowls of food, bones, and other rubbish. He heaved the table over, revealing a roughly smithed iron plate embedded in the stone floor. About four feet by three feet, it had a hole in the center that looked suspiciously like the simple keyholes his father made back in the blacksmith shop. But where was the key? The group had followed him by now, and he knelt down and banged on the iron plate. The sound that echoed back was hollow.

  In answer, they heard the moaning from below, rising to a muffled cry. “Kehn … sah … kehn … shah …”

  Caygek knelt down and put his ear to the iron. “Is someone down there?”

  “Yes,” Merlin said. “It’s the old woman who served Atle food when we first arrived. He’s locked her there for some reason.”

  “Her? The misshapen one? Who cares about her? Let’s light the building on fire and let her die in it, I say. She’s one of them, and worth nothing compared to our freedom.”

  “Yes … your well-loved freedom,” Merlin said, remembering their previous altercation after Merlin had decided to give themselves up as slaves. “I love freedom too, but I’m not going to leave her in prison while we run off and possibly burn the hall down above her.”

  “She’ll survive — she’s got an iron plate and a stone foundation to protect her.”

  “And if she doesn’t? I won’t have her innocent blood on my hands while I try and save Arthur.”

  “Arthur? Do I care for Arthur? I only care about my own blood.”

  Merlin looked to the others. “Who’s with me?” he asked. “Who will help me free her before we leave?”

  Everyone nodded … everyone except Caygek. The druid’s nostrils flared, and he jumped at Merlin, snarling.

  Merlin hadn’t expected this and so reacted late by trying to jump away.

  One of Caygek’s hands grabbed his tunic, and the other smashed into his jaw. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, grappling with the druid, who raised his fist to punch Merlin again.

  Bedwir and Peredur arrived, pulling Caygek’s arms back and yanking him off of Merlin.

  “Peace, young Caygek,” Colvarth said. “We accomplish nothing by fighting among ourselves. We either all work together —”

  “Or we die!” Caygek said, struggling. “And I’d kill you both if I still had my sword.”

  Garth stepped over and stood in between Merlin and Caygek. “Even if she survives the fire, she’ll still die down there with no food or water. Imagine it. Didn’t you learn anythin’ about compassion while we were slaves o’ the Picts?”

  Caygek took a deep breath, and then nodded. “Yes … I did. Especially from you. But I don’t have to like it. I don’t want to be trapped here any longer than I have to.”

  Colvarth held his hands out. “None of us do. Let’s work to free this unfortunate soul.”

  “Fine. Fine. I’ll cooperate.”

  Bedwir and Peredur loosened their grip, and Caygek shook himself free. He grabbed a thick iron spoon from the clutter around the fallen table and started to pry at the edge of the iron plate. “Isn’t anyone here going to help?”

  The others all found something to pry with: Colvarth and Peredur with more serving spoons, Garth pulled out an iron rod from a tapestry, and Bedwir used the edge of a decorative shield he’d yanked from a well. Merlin found a broad bread knife, dull but tough.

  But try as they might, the iron plate would not budge. While others kept trying, Merlin stepped back. What had the angel in his vision said? The words echoed in his mind.

  “… freedom for those in darkness is hidden in the throne …”

  The throne! Merlin walked around and began to study it. The back was made of an aged oak, inlaid with a lighter wood in the pattern of ocean waves. Dusty-blue gems
had been set into these waves in the outline of a boat. But it wasn’t only the gems that looked like a ship … the seat and arms themselves had been shaped like of the hull of a boat. And so there was space where something could be hidden below deck, but Merlin’s inspections didn’t reveal any hatch.

  “Garth,” he called after his search proved futile, “Come and help.”

  The boy looked up from his prying, confused, but dropped his iron rod and walked over.

  “The key is hidden in the throne. If you had a boat … where would you hide a key?”

  “Boat’s don’t have keys … but they do have keels.” Garth bent down and knocked hard on the bottom hull of the seat. A clink could be heard inside. “I don’t see … hang on a bit.”

  Merlin knelt to see what Garth was doing. The bottom of the boat seat did indeed have a keel at the bottom, a small board protruding down. Garth looked closely at it, and finally rotated it sideways on some hidden pin.

  Click.

  A board at the top of the seat popped up.

  “You did it!” Merlin lifted the board more and saw that it had been attached to a cleverly hidden hinge and lock. The inside had two carved slots — a round one for a ring of keys, and a long one shaped like a large dagger. The ring of keys lay in its slot, but the dagger was missing. What looked like dried blood coated the place where the blade would have been.

  Garth pointed to the empty slot. “What do you supposed that’s for?”

  “I’m not sure I want to know.” Merlin grabbed the ring of keys and ran over to the iron plate. Everyone backed away as he tried the first, which was too large for the long, thin slit that was the keyhole. The second key fit, however, and he slipped it in on the right side where the iron was scratched. Fiddling with the position of the key, it finally clicked in place and pushed the tumblers out of the way. Merlin smiled as he slid the bar to the left. The plate came loose, allowing them to pry it up. The iron was heavy, however, and they had to heave it to the side, revealing a shaft that was abysmally dark. Stone steps began about two feet down — narrow and steep.