The Merlin Effect (13 page)

“Tell me.”

Geoffrey pulled anxiously at his beard. “I cannot! Not because I don’t want to, but because I really don’t know. No one knows. The precise nature of the Horn’s power has remained a mystery, except to a few mer people—and the great Merlin himself, although that knowledge could not save him from his terrible end.”

“Why all this secrecy?”

“Its power must be very great. Too great, perhaps.” He started to stretch his hand toward the date.

Holding the precious item just out of reach, she queried, “Isn’t there anything you
can
tell me?”

He shook his head, knocking the clinging date pit to the floor. “Only the riddle,” he muttered.

“What riddle?”

“Merlin’s own concoction. But it won’t help, I can assure you. No one, not even a member of the Order of the Horn, has ever solved it. The only way to discover the power of the Horn is to drink from it! And that honor, as the Emperor Merwas long ago commanded, is reserved only for those with extraordinary wisdom and strength of will.”

She tossed the date into the folds of his habit. “Tell me the riddle.”

Geoffrey scooped it up, plunked it in his mouth, threw away the pit. Then he reached under his rags and scratched his chest vigorously. At length, he relented, and began to recite:

“Holds a power,”
repeated Kate, deep in thought. She paced around the captain’s quarters. “Holds a power
you
create? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Releasing another cacophonous yawn, Geoffrey slid lower in the chair. “You might try taking a nap. It might come to you while you sleep.” He yawned again, his blackened teeth rattling. “Might just join you myself.”

Without facing him, Kate said, “Merwas supposedly said
the Horn’s power had something to do with eternal life. Is that true?”

Only a sputtering snore arose from the bundle of rags in the chair.

Ignoring him, she continued to pace, saying over and over what lines from the riddle she could remember. Yet the more she struggled, the more contradictory they seemed. Like pieces in a faulty jigsaw puzzle, they simply did not fit.

Glancing toward the snoring Geoffrey, she realized that she felt a bit drowsy herself. Maybe he was right, after all. Maybe a little rest would help. She would not allow herself to sleep, but at least she might be able to think more clearly.

Rounding the polished desk, she approached the thin bed by the wall. She pushed aside the roll of blankets and stretched out her body. Her sore back relaxed. She stared at the ancient timbers, working the riddle in her mind.

Soon she was breathing in time to Geoffrey.

C
old. Blood chilling, bone-freezing cold. Biting enough to make Kate shiver. Aching enough to make her cry out in pain.

She awoke, shivering.

She grabbed the worn blanket at the base of the bed and pulled it over herself. It did no good. The bitter wind seemed to pass straight through the cover. Where did all that warm humidity go so suddenly?

Glancing at Geoffrey, she could see him snoring peacefully in the chair, apparently unaware of the extreme chill. Teeth chattering, she started to call to the old monk. But before she could utter a sound, something halted her.

A small shred of mist was forming in the window, curling over the sill like a sinewy finger. Yet this mist was darker, heavier, than any Kate had seen before. Through the window it snaked, stretching toward her.

Slowly, the dark finger flowed through the air to the edge of the desk. It oozed across the bronze astrolabe, through the twin handles of the gold cup, and around the slender red volume.
Onward it moved, gradually approaching the bed where she clung to her blanket, transfixed.

She tried to scream, but she had no voice. She tried to rush from the bed to wake Geoffrey, but she had no strength. She felt helpless, caught in the icy grip of an irresistible power.

The flowing finger of mist stopped above the bed, hovering before her face. As she watched, it began to metamorphose. The mist condensed into the body of an infant, round and chubby, with an almost cherubic face. Clad in a graceful, silken robe, the infant hung in the air with no apparent effort. His full cheeks and gentle nose gave him a comforting, jovial appearance. Only the eyes, bright but deeply recessed, seemed oddly out of place.

As Kate stared in disbelief, the infant smiled at her kindly. Despite her shivering, she felt herself relax ever so slightly. At that moment a low, melodic laughter filled the room, and the infant’s body shook with humor.

“You look cold,” he purred. “Here, let me help you.”

With that the infant blew upon Kate, and his breath was as warm as the desert sun. Her skin tingled, her muscles loosened, her heart expanded. Soon the chill wind had vanished. Cautiously, she allowed the blanket to slip from her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she said hesitantly. “How did you do that?”

“It matters not,” he replied in a soothing tone. “All you need to know is that I have come to protect you.”

“And,” she asked, dropping the blanket completely, “who are you?”

Again the infant smiled. “I am your friend. My magic is strong, and I am here to help you.”

“Can you—can you help me get out of here?”

“If that is your desire.”

“It is!” shouted Kate, so loud she was sure her cry would wake Geoffrey. Yet he slumbered on, slumped in the chair.

“Good.” The hovering infant laughed, swaying with pleasure. “I will be happy to return you home.”

“You can really do that?”

“With ease.” The cherubic face beamed. “I need ask only one small favor in return.”

“What favor?”

“I would like you to help me get…the Horn.”

Astonished, Kate leaned closer. “The Horn of Merlin?”

“It does not belong to Merlin,” said the infant, a hint of raspiness creeping into his voice. “It never did.”

“But I don’t have any idea where it is.”

“You will.” The soothing tone had returned. “I am sure you will.”

She cocked her head. “If your magic is so strong, why can’t you get it yourself?”

For a split second, the deep-set eyes glinted with something resembling anger. Then, just as swiftly, it passed. “I could, of course. But before I can help you, you must prove your worth.”

“And what would you do with it?”

“I would simply…enjoy its power.”

“Which is?”

“The power to live forever, of course.”

Something about that definition did not seem quite right to Kate, but she was not sure what. “I don’t think Geoffrey would like this idea.”

“That old fool? You can disregard him. He is of no consequence.” Floating in the air, the infant started circling the bed, as if tying a noose around her. “It is a simple matter, really. All you need to do is await my instructions.”

Something about the way he said the word
instructions
made Kate feel a bit chilly again. She drew a deep breath and said, “I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it.”

“Think about it?” snarled the infant. Then an aroma, sweet as apple blossoms, filled the room. The infant’s eyes flamed once more, then began to sink deeper and deeper until finally they disappeared altogether, leaving only two holes, vacant as the void. At the same time, the cherubic face swelled into the face of a woman, whose long black hair fell over her shoulders. The rest of her body returned to mist, dark as smoke, with two wispy arms curling like tentacles. One of her vaporous hands brandished a blackened dagger.

Kate shrank back on the bed. A single word came to her, a word that chilled her anew. “Nimue.”

“Yessss,” said the enchantress, her voice like a jet of steam. “It issss I, or more precissssely, my image. For my body cannot yet passss through the wallssss of the whirlpool. Not yet, but ssssoon. Very ssssoon.”

“What d-d-do you m-mean?” asked Kate, clutching the blanket again.

Nimue hissed in satisfaction. “You will ssssee. And if you do not help me, you will regret it.”

“I w-won’t,” she said with effort.

“Then you will ssssuffer.”

“Geoffrey!” she shrieked, shaking with cold. “Geoffrey, wak-ke up!”

The old man did not stir.

“He cannot hear you,” declared Nimue, swimming lazily in the air above her. “Sssso lissssten. I sssseek only one thing, and that issss the Horn. Whether you help me or not, I will get it. Of that I am ccccertain! For ssssome reasssson, though, I feel mercccciful today, enough to give you a
ssssecond chancccce. If you assisssst me, I will sssspare your life.”

Kate tried, without success, to stop shivering. “I w-w-will n-never help y-you.”

“True?” spat Nimue. “I ssssuspect not. Here issss ssssomeone I shall ssssoon desssstroy, unless you change your mind.”

The enchantress waved a misty hand. Another image, wavering in the dim light of the room, appeared beside her own. It was a face, one Kate recognized instantly.

“Dad!”

“Sssso you know him, do you? Then mark my wordssss. He issss my prissssoner.”

“Let him go!” she wailed.

Nimue’s mouth curled. “Hissss fate issss in your handssss.”

The face of her father cringed, as if he were in pain. Kate herself cringed at the sight.

“All r-right,” she answered in torment. “I will h-help you, if you p-p-promise not to harm him.”

“Good choicccce,” pronounced Nimue. “I will not harm him.”

“P-promise?”

“I promisssse,” said the enchantress, twirling her smoke-like form. “Now here issss what I assssk of you.”

Raising one of her hands, Nimue swept it before Kate’s face. A ring on one thin finger flashed with ruby light, so bright that it hurt her eyes.

“Look into my ring,” Nimue commanded.

Kate averted her gaze, unwilling to do as she said.

Then the enchantress bellowed, “Look into my ring, or I will kill your father.”

Biting her lip, Kate slowly lifted her head. The ruby light exploded in her eyes, but this time she did not turn away. All she could see was the powerful pulsing of the ring. All she could feel was its light burning into every corner of her brain.

“Very good,” echoed the voice of the enchantress through the red fog that clouded Kate’s vision. “That issss much better. I will give you no instructionssss now, but for thissss one command. Whenever you hear my voicccce, wherever you may be, you will do only what I ssssay. Issss that undersssstood?”

“Yes, Nimue,” replied Kate slowly.

“Then let ussss tesssst your loyalty,” the enchantress continued. “Raisssse your right arm, near to your mouth.”

With stilted movements, Kate obeyed.

“Now bite your wrisssst. Hard.”

Unable to resist, she clamped down her teeth on her own skin.

“Harder,” ordered Nimue.

Kate bit fiercely, until a drop of blood swelled on her wrist and trickled down her arm.

“You may ceasssse,” said Nimue, satisfied at last. As Kate lowered her arm, the enchantress declared, “You will not remember any of our meeting, nor any of our converssssation. You will only remember my voicccce, whenever you hear it. And that will be ssssoon. Very ssssoon.”

Ruby light burst before Kate’s eyes. Nimue disappeared, and with her, the cold.

K
ate awoke, more tired than when she had lain down to rest. Her mouth tasted strangely rancid, despite a lingering sweetness in the air. She stared at the glassless window, watching the vapors swirling outside, trying to recall a vague memory. Something about the window…

She rolled over, exhausted. It must be the constant half-light down here. How could Geoffrey ever sleep well, let alone keep track of the months and years? He had no sunrises and sunsets to guide him, no waxing and waning moon, no stars swimming overhead.

Besides, it was hot. Uncomfortably hot. Why did she have any need for a blanket? She threw aside her cover, then felt a piercing pain in her wrist.

Seeing the bloody wound on her skin, she gasped. Tearing a strip of cloth from the tail of her blue cotton shirt, she gingerly wrapped the injured arm.
Such a deep cut! Strange I don’t remember getting it.
She paused before tying the bandage. Something else was odd about this cut, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It looked almost like…teeth marks. But of course that was impossible.

At that moment, Geoffrey yawned with the subtlety of a fog horn. Stretching his bony arms skyward, he shook his wild mane, scratched behind his neck, and, only then, opened his eyes.

“Yes,” he crowed, “nothing like a good nap.” He glanced her way. “Good morning to you, Miss Gordon.”

“Call me Kate, all right?”

“Would you prefer Maid Kate?”

“Kate is fine.”

The hawklike nose grew slightly pink. “My, such familiarity! As you wish, then. Good morning to you, Kate.” With sudden concern, he added, “Why, you’re wounded.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, trying the knot. “Just a scratch.”

“Happens to me at least once a fortnight,” consoled Geoffrey. “Did you find any success with the riddle?”

Kate merely frowned.

“Have a date, then.” He picked one off the floor himself. “We shall eat something more substantial later. But first, I must practice my lessons.”

“Lessons?”

Sliding the chair closer to the desk, he reached for the leather book. “A few of Merlin’s gems, that’s all. After centuries of practice, I have mastered only a few. Still, progress is progress.”

Kate eyed the battered volume. “What is it, a magician’s handbook?”

“You might call it that. It is a compendium of some of my mentor’s wisdom, which I collected from learned sources over many years, then recorded in my own hand. Otherwise I could never remember any of it.”