The Iron Hammer

by J. M. Briggs

  The bag on his back suddenly seemed heavier and Merlin paused to consider this decision once again. If anything went wrong and he was swept the wrong direction then he risked dumping the most dangerous poison he knew of into the world. He had no idea how far it could spread and had no desire to test it after what had occurred in the tunnel. Pulling off the backpack, Merlin clutched it in one hand and eyed the whirlpool carefully. He was lingering too long and in the distance, he thought he could hear movement. Yet he unzipped the top of the bag and checked on the small wrapped jars once again. They were solid enough to keep the poison contained, but he’d seen one smash all too easily in the tunnel.

  Behind him, the distant sounds were growing louder. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he could feel a shudder in his magic as it responded to a coming threat. Yet he couldn’t shake the fear of stepping into the water with the jars. Zipping the bag up, Merlin pulled it onto one shoulder and clenched the strap tightly with his left hand as he turned to look behind him.

  Figures were marching towards him. They were slight of build and wearing a mixture of clothing though all had hats or hoods of some kind. All of their heads were tilted down away from the sunlight, but he could see white hair escaping their head coverings. Merlin moved towards the water tunnel only for the creatures to rush towards him in a startling burst of speed.

  “Merlin!” A familiar voice shouted from beyond the figures. It surprised him enough that teamed with his lingering concerns over the jars he stopped in front of the water tunnel and risked a look back.

  Everything came to a stop as the Sídhe creatures formed a half circle around him. There was no reaction on their faces to the sight of the sloshing water tunnel. The Sídhe creatures just stared at him, their violet eyes locked almost unseeing on him. Merlin was about to turn and rush to the water tunnel when another a more human figure appeared behind the ranks of Sídhe. Merlin froze in place, his limbs thrumming with anger at the mere sight of the boy.

  Holding back a sneer, Merlin locked his eyes on Arthur as the familiar hated figure approached. The young man looked completely normal with his short and slightly messy blond hair and dressed in jeans and a dark t-shirt. Nothing about him would alarm those that saw him, but Merlin was repulsed by the mere sight of him. He wondered, not for the first time, how he had ever been taken in by Arthur’s deceit. For a moment he was completely silent as the young man sauntered over and the Sídhe parted to let him through.

  “Professor Yates,” Arthur greeted with a smirk. “Pleasure to see you again, sir.”

  “Medraut,” Merlin growled, straightening up as the man approached.

  “That isn’t my name anymore.” Arthur chuckled, his blue eyes glinting in amusement. “Though I suppose after centuries of the tales of King Arthur you might be a bit protective of that name as well. It is after all how your precious Arto is remembered.”

  “Don’t speak of Arto,” Merlin snapped. Straightening up, he glared fiercely at the young man. “You have no right.”

  “He was my cousin,” Arthur reminded him with a lazy shrug and a nonchalance that did not reach his eyes. “I was family.”

  “Who you betrayed for power.”

  “I had my reasons then.” Arthur took another step forward which made Merlin shift back. Water lapped around his ankles sending a shudder through his legs. “Don’t assume that you knew everything, Merlin. I did care about Arto in my own way.”

  “Then you do actually remember that life?” Merlin heard himself ask with genuine curiosity coloring his voice. He hated it, but he had truly found himself wondering so he quickly added, “Or is that just your training from Scáthbás talking.”

  “Scáthbás told me many things about that life, but over time I’ve discovered those parts of me.” There was a spark of something in his eyes that Merlin, even with his great experience, couldn’t identify. “Just as I suspect poor Alex is discovering parts of herself.” Then Arthur shook his head and the smug expression returned to his face. “But what are you doing here, Merlin?” Arthur demanded, striding forward with his hands in his pockets as he glanced around. “No Morgana and no Alex. You all alone in Wales.” A suspicious look crossed Arthur face as he narrowed his gaze on Merlin. “Why?”

  “It’s spring break and there are ancient gates to check,” Merlin reminded him coldly. “Especially with them decaying and the sword missing as you’re aware, Medraut.”

  “You’re here checking the gates?” Arthur repeated doubtfully. “They’re a lost cause without Cathanáil. The only reason the Sídhe aren’t breaking them down over here is old fears about lingering magic.”

  The remark made Merlin frown. He wondered how much Scáthbás knew about events that had occurred in the period between her imprisonment and return. Arthur was watching him, no doubt weighing his reactions so Merlin fought to keep his expression neutral. He wanted to demand an answer as to why Arthur was here, wanted to learn about their plans, but the boy was smarter than that.

  “I suppose this is the time I’m expected to give you a grand speech about how it isn’t too late,” Merlin said, allowing himself a slight frown. “Remind you that I’m half Sídhe too, born from a rape who found his way as a guardian of the Iron Realm and that you could do the same.”

  “You’re the professor of literature,” Arthur huffed, a cold look on his face. “You’re aware of how cliché that would be. Besides you were allowed to come into existence by the power of the Iron Realm, I’m not sure what that says about whatever guiding force it is that you protect and revere while I was created by Scáthbás.”

  “Indeed which is why I won’t waste my breath.”

  “I thought you were supposed to be the optimistic one. Always seeing the best in a situation. Believing that things will get better.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, boy,” Merlin reminded him. “I’m very old.”

  “So am I.”

  “No, not like me,” Merlin said calmly, meeting his gaze evenly. “I’m optimistic because I know how much humans can survive and recover from. I’ve seen so many wars, so much bloodshed and so many days that seemed like the end and yet the world kept going. I’m optimistic because I know that there is nothing you can do that will forever destroy the Iron Realm, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you try.”

  Another dark look flickered over Arthur’s features and the boy shifted, glancing at the water tunnel. “Don’t think that blood spell will keep your precious Iron Soul safe,” Arthur told him evenly. “I’m half human same as you and Morgana.”

  “But you have no loyalty to the Iron Realm,” Merlin countered. He took another step towards the water tunnel. “You tried to kill Alex.” Merlin gave Arthur a chilly smile as he added, “And I once saw a blood spell attack Morgana many years ago because of her torn loyalty and she was Arto’s own sister. You’re not safe, boy, not even close. You have no loyalty to the Iron Realm and it will destroy you.”

  “Loyalty to the Iron Realm,” Arthur repeated, smugness and something else creeping into his voice. “Ah, Merlin, look around. The Iron Realm is now ruled by what exactly? Warring little states that are scared of their own diversity and unwilling to surrender any power despite global problems that threaten all of Humanity. And you and Morgana do nothing. For three thousand years you’ve possessed the power to shape the world, to guide more than just the Iron Soul and yet have done nothing. This world is dying and you don’t care.”

  “Medraut, there is nothing you can say that would ever convince me you sincerely care about anyone or anything but yourself.” Merlin gave a dark laugh.

  “Perhaps not, but you were a child of the old times, Merlin. I doubt you approve of everything humans have done since then.”

  “Not everything.” Merlin shifted the backpack as he debated his chances of getting one of the jars out. “And sadly it isn’t universal, but we have access to clean water and I won’t argue against modern medicine.” Merlin narrowed his eyes on Arthur. “What
do you think you’re going to achieve with this conversation, Medraut? Do you think you’re going to kill me?”

  “That is a possibility.” Arthur’s flickered to the water tunnel still swirling behind him. “But given how close you are to the tunnel I doubt it.” Arthur shifted and gave Merlin a searching look. “You never wonder do you?”

  “Wonder what exactly boy?”

  “Why the Sídhe invaded so many worlds?” Arthur answered calmly his eyes never leaving Merlin’s. “Why this all started? The Old Ones are banished here by a corrupt government… though not lately so perhaps Avalyen has finally stabilized, but what of the Sídhe?”

  “Conquest and slaves appeal to some,” Merlin said. He disliked the inkling of curiosity he could feel beginning to grow at the back of his skull.

  “Morgana has a simple view of them.” Arthur said with a shrug. “And I don’t blame her for that. What happened to the child was harsh, but she’s never questioned how a culture like that emerged. The Sídhe may not have the same emotional spectrum as us, but you have to admit that they aren’t completely heartless. So why? What drives a people to take over other worlds and lose themselves in the suffering of others?”

  “I daresay you’re eager to tell me,” Merlin scoffed with a doubtful frown. “But it won’t change anything, Medraut. This is the Iron Realm. It is the home of humans and other creatures that evolved here, not another world for the Sídhe.”

  “Yet you tolerate the Old Ones. They have children and add to the frustration of the Iron Realm.”

  “We tolerate some of the Old Ones,” Merlin corrected, faking a chuckle and stepping back again. Judging from the sharp look in Arthur’s blue eyes he wasn’t fooled. “Most of them are neutral towards us at best. Alex did just destroy Chernobog as I’m sure you recall. Those that move against mages are dwelt with.”

  Something shifted in Arthur’s eyes at the mention of Alex and Chernobog. The smugness that had been in them faded, even if only for a moment. Merlin held back a smile, it seemed that Arthur for all of his boasting carried a bit of fear. Then again he had seen her slay one of the worst of the Old Ones with Cathanáil despite never laying a hand on the sword before in this life. There was no doubt in Merlin’s mind that someday Arthur would have to pay either Alex or Jenny for his manipulation and betrayal.

  “You’re afraid of Alex,” Merlin observed with a smile. “Good, you should be.” He took another step back. “Though I’m not sure who you should be most afraid of: Alex, Morgana, Nicki or Jenny. None of them are women I’d want out for my blood.”

  Arthur’s hand twitched. Merlin braced himself for a magical attack even as he checked his own magic swirling in the water tunnel. It had been open far too long and he wondered if it was even safe to try and use anymore. Black sparks flared around Arthur’s hand, a sharp contrast from the white magic that Merlin had seen him use in the past. One more part of the trick, he mused angrily as he brought his hand up and sent the green sparks flying forward to create a barrier.

  The black bolts from Arthur’s hand struck the green shield which shimmered in response. Merlin was weighing the odds of destroying Arthur here and now when the Sídhe became to rush forward once more. More black bolts weakened the shield and the green magic flickered. Taking a step back, Merlin dropped the walking stick and brought his left hand up. Green magic rolled out of his palm in a wave. The ground shook and rocks sprang up from the earth tripping the Sídhe and sending them falling to the ground. A shout from Arthur at them made a shiver pass up his spine. Releasing another wave of magic, Merlin felt a twinge of guilt as more of the poor enslaved creatures were struck with green bolts and began to fade into dust.

  Three of the creatures were back on their feet and almost upon him. Summoning more magic, Merlin blasted bolts of green straight into their chest. Behind him, he could hear the water tunnel weakening and feel his magic draining in an effort to keep it open. More Sídhe were closing in on him and Arthur’s attack on his shield hadn’t stopped. Gathering up as much magic as he dared, Merlin formed an orb and launched it towards Arthur just as his green shield vanished. He couldn’t linger but heard a shout of alarm that almost made him smile.

  Throwing himself into the water tunnel, Merlin struggled against the wild current as the magic around him shuddered and tightened around his body. Air was forced from his lungs, but he couldn’t breathe the water. Summoning the image of Ravens Lake, Merlin tightened his hand around the strap of the backpack as the current tried to tear it away. The pressure was building, his ears were popping and his limbs weakened. Magic rippled across his skin, a soft and silent warning that made him force his eyes open.

  Up ahead a light was growing brighter and brighter. He pushed against the currents, driving himself towards it. Distantly he thought he could hear shouting. Strange magic washed past him, a shimmer of black against the twisting blue and green of the water and his magic. The light was just in front of him. Merlin pushed more of his magic outward, reaching for the light as the magic of the tunnel collapsing. Water splashed over him in an icy crash sending a jolt of panic through his heart. Then he was at the light and falling forward as the tunnel collapsed beneath him.

  He hit the ground hard and coughed even as he tried to breathe. The chirping of nearby birds reassured him that he’d made the trip successfully. His pants were moist and sticking to his legs though he’d managed to keep his shirt dry. Behind him, Merlin heard a loud splash as the water tunnel collapsed back into the lake. Shaking his head, Merlin grimaced as water trickled down the back of his neck. Yet his fingers were still wrapped tightly around the strap of the backpack and he was back in Ravenslake. Rough trip or not, he had to consider it a success.

  17

  Life of Fear

  The air was warm and a sweet smell of blooming flowers filled the air. Yet there was a chill down the back of their spine that Alex couldn’t understand. Something was off, but she was at a loss to explain it as she sank further into the dream and her awareness that it was a dream began to slip away.

  A sense of relief sank into their bones as they walked up the small drive leading to the two-story brick house. In the setting sun, the red bricks of varying shades gleamed and the green trim faded into the ivy growing up the east side of the house. A swing made of rope and a wooden plank hung from the largest branch of an old oak was occupied by a young girl in a plain blue dress.

  The little girl laughed, a long brown braid slipping over her shoulder as she jumped off the swing. “Father’s home!” She called loudly, rushing towards him with a giggle.

  She hugged him tightly around the middle, earning a pat on the head and an affectionate chuckle in return. The front door opened and a woman appeared in the doorway, greeting them with a tired smile as the little girl released them. She was short with brown hair styled in a softly curled bob and intelligent blue eyes. Her dress hung loosely on her frame with an apron tied around her waist. There was a little girl, about four, with bright blond hair cradled in her arms half asleep. The smell of baking bread was carried on the air out of the house and mixing with the scent of the flowers in the window box.

  “Welcome home, Gottfried,” the woman said. Smiling widely, she leaned up to kiss their cheek.

  “Hello, Ilse.” They stepped inside and shrugged out of their coat.

  “Father,” the little girl in Ilse’s arm cheered as she woke. “Hello, Father.”

  With a smile, they shifted the little girl from Ilse’s arm into theirs and kissed the rosy cheek presented to them. “Hello, Elsa, how are you?”

  “Good, Father,” she repeated, looking pleased with herself. “We had a nice day.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that.” They chuckled, bending over to put the girl down as more children joined them.

  There were four of them in total. All young, the oldest was a boy who couldn’t have been older than ten, and healthy looking. The chill at the back of their spine vanished for a moment before flaring worse than before. Nonetheless, they
knelt down and proceeded to accept hugs from the children. The oldest boy was a bit more formal but still smiled widely at them.

  “And how are my children?” They placed a hand on their knee to steady themselves as they remained on the floor.

  “I had a very good day at school,” the oldest boy announced, straightening up proudly. A strand of blond hair fell into his brown eyes, but he ignored it. “I did very well on today’s test.”

  “Excellent, Enrich.” They gave the boy a wide smile. “I’m pleased to hear that.” They turned their eyes to the second boy. “What about you, Reinhold?”

  “I have a test on Friday,” the younger boy said. He shrugged his shoulders a little, earning a displeased look from his mother.

  “I had a good day too,” Gisela told them eagerly. “And I helped Mother with the bread when I got home.”

  “Yes she did,” Ilse agreed though she didn’t look as pleased as her daughter.