The Merlin Effect

by T.A. Barron

  The wizard nodded sadly. “I feel for the whales. Their pain is as great as the ocean itself! They need something more, something beyond the power of the Horn to provide. They need . . . hope. That is my wish for them. It might come from any number of sources, even something as small as an isolated act of kindness. Or it might never come at all. Time will tell.”

  Hearing his voice, so much like Geoffrey’s, Kate could not resist asking a question. “All that time you were in the whirlpool, did you look like yourself or like Geoffrey?”

  “Like Geoffrey, to be sure! The last thing I wanted to do was to alert Nimue that Merlin had returned. That is why, when I finally escaped from the cave, I arranged the elaborate ruse of smuggling myself on board the Resurreccíon. The ship, I knew, would pass near the whirlpool. So after ensuring the sailors would be saved by the whales, I sank down to the bottom—hoping, perhaps, that someday a friend of Arthur’s cause might find my clue on the ship’s manifest and follow me.”

  Despite herself, Kate blushed.

  Merlin straightened up proudly. “All Nimue ever suspected was that a bumbling old monk had been sucked down the whirlpool. Knowing that she watched me constantly, I remained disguised as Geoffrey so she wouldn’t get alarmed and try something . . . drastic. As it was, she ran out of patience before I expected.”

  Kate cringed as a chunk of the ceiling slammed to the floor, spraying her with water. “So for all those years she couldn’t get in, and you couldn’t get out.”

  “Not until you gave me the idea.” He smacked his lips as if remembering something tasty. “Fortunately, the ship was loaded with a good supply of . . . necessities.”

  “As well as your little red book.”

  At that moment, another tremor tore at the castle, ripping away an entire wall so that the gleaming stars of the cavern shone down on them directly. Kate, like Merlin, barely kept her balance. As the tremor subsided, she drank in the sight of the stars.

  She thought of the world above the waves she would not see again. Of the people whose voices she would not hear again. Viewing the chasm where her father and Isabella had disappeared, not far from Terry’s bloody body, she shook her head. “I only wish your little red book had some way to bring the dead back to life.”

  Merlin started. “How stupid of me!”

  Before she could ask what he was doing, he pawed through some rubble and snatched up the knife that had rested on the glassy table. Then he ran to Terry’s side and bent low. Ever so gently, he touched its tip to the wound in Terry’s chest.

  “The knife that can heal any wound!” exclaimed Kate, comprehending at last.

  “It may be too late to help,” warned Merlin. “If he has but a flicker of life still within him, the knife may revive him.” But if he is gone, there is nothing more I can do.”

  Kate watched Terry’s face for any sign of life, but saw none. “How long,” she asked hoarsely, “before we know?”

  “It may take some time.” His expression grave, he added, “More time than we have left.” With his free hand he scratched the point of his nose in the way Geoffrey often did. Then he declared, “Escape is still possible.”

  Dumbfounded, she scanned the crumbling walls of the castle. “Escape?”

  “Before the eruption. But you must hurry! I would guess it is only seconds away.”

  “What do we do about Terry?”

  “I will stay with him.”

  She realized that he meant her to go alone. ‘‘Forget it. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  “You must,” the wizard insisted. “And take with you the Horn.” He glanced toward the shattered table of Treasures. “I would like to go with you. Benedicite, I would. But I cannot. Whether or not I can heal this young man, I might yet be able to find some way to shield the Treasures from being completely destroyed. If Arthur is ever to return, he will need them.”

  She turned the Horn in her hand. “But this is one of the Treasures, too.”

  Merlin shook his white head. “That may be true, but I have learned one thing in finding it, losing it, and finding it again. The Horn Serilliant deserves a life of its own. Its power is too great to be locked away, hidden from all the world. If it is to be one of Arthur’s Treasures, then Arthur must one day find it himself.”

  “It should be kept somewhere safe. So someone like Nimue—or her sea demons—doesn’t get it.”

  “It should go with you.”

  She looked from the Horn to Terry’s still-motionless body. “I’m not leaving without you!”

  Merlin gazed at her soulfully. “You must try to save yourself. That is what your father would want.” He lowered his eyes. “And what I want.”

  “No.”

  “I will miss you, Kate Gordon.”

  “But I wouldn’t have any idea what to do with the Horn!”

  A low rumble shook the floor, almost drowning out Merlin’s reply. “It is up to you to choose its rightful home.”

  He reached, it seemed, to touch her cheek, but never did. A jagged hole opened in the floor beneath her. She dropped into darkness.

  XXIX: Jaws of Death

  With a splash, she plunged into the water.

  The lake felt both warmer and darker than before. It stung her eyes. Murky spirals of sediment swirled around her like miniature maelstroms. Fighting her way back up, she wished she could still swim like a fish, moving with her spine instead of her limbs, breathing with gills instead of lungs, craving only water instead of air.

  Bursting above the surface, she gasped for breath. The air reeked of sulphur, burning her throat. Clouds of mist obscured any view of the castle, let alone the starry cavern. Rumbling surrounded her, growing louder by the second, punctuated by the sound of the castle collapsing. Every few seconds, pieces of its structure dropped into the lake.

  She wondered whether she would die by drowning or by boiling in the lava that she knew would soon spew forth, turning this undersea lake into a pot of boiling stew. I’d rather drown, she thought dismally. It’s quicker.

  A sudden chill gripped her. Like an eclipse passing over the sun, the chill extinguished her own light and warmth. She shivered, doubly so, for she knew what had caused the change. And she knew that there was one way to die even worse than boiling in lava.

  She whirled around to face the sea demon.

  Murderous teeth exposed, the huge sea demon drew nearer. Slithering through the water, it approached steadily, but relaxedly, as if savoring its moment of final revenge.

  The Horn. It wants the Horn. Anger flared inside her, pushing back the chill. The Horn belonged to the world, as Merlin had said. Not to a demon.

  She flipped a splash of water. “Try and get it,” she taunted. “Just try.”

  The sea demon halted its advance, a look of sudden doubt on its face. Kate thought at first that her spurt of defiance had worked. Then she realized that another creature, even larger than the sea demon, was approaching from the opposite side.

  Spinning her head, she found herself staring straight into a massive face. A face she had seen only once before, at equally close range.

  It was the face of a whale.

  The great creature spouted, spraying her with humid breath. Abruptly, he rolled to one side, sending a wave washing over her and his own barnacled back. Waving his pectoral fins aggressively, he made a sharp clicking that echoed and reechoed in the underwater cavern.

  Great, thought Kate, blinking the stinging salt from her eyes. A sea demon on one side, an angry whale on the other.

  Then the whale fell still. He watched her intently, his round eye not wavering. Although Kate could not be sure, he seemed to regard her with something other than malice. Something more like . . . recognition.

  At that moment the sea demon released a deep, fierce growl. She felt cold again, colder than before. She turned to see the sea demon swimming toward her again.

  Another wave rolled over her as the whale, bending his enormous back, dived into the lake. As he submerged, he r
aised his tail high into the air—a tail whose fluke had been recently severed.

  Kate bit her lip, as a rush of memory flooded her. She saw once more the helpless animal, golden in the moonlight, struggling to stay alive. She heard his mournful cry of death, felt his flailing tail. So he did survive, after all.

  Facing the sea demon once more, her brief sense of celebration vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Worse, she could no longer summon her courage, or even her anger. All she felt was fear. Fear as cold and deep as the eyes of Nimue.

  Fast approaching, the sea demon growled vengefully. Its immense jaws opened, ready to devour its prey and claim its prize.

  At that instant, a wave lifted around Kate. Then she realized with a shock that it was no wave. A gigantic mouth rose above the surface, and she was in its center. As swiftly as it carried her upward, the mouth closed around her.

  Everything went black.

  Her first impulse was to fight. Against the lack of light and air, against the fringes of baleen that pushed at her from all sides, against the fear of being eaten alive.

  Futilely, she struggled. Countless rows of baleen, like the bristles of vast brushes, pressed tightly against her. She could hardly move, hardly breathe. She had been swallowed, like Jonah. Swallowed by a whale.

  Then, all at once, it came clear. Like the sailors of an ancient ship, she was being borne by a whale who wanted to save her. Yet this time no land was near. And this time something else would pursue them. She ceased struggling, working her way into a small pocket of air above the whale’s tongue. For now, at least, she could breathe, though the air stank of undigested krill. Her feeling of dread only deepened.

  The whale’s angle changed sharply from vertical to horizontal. He dropped back to the water with a loud splash. In another instant he was diving again, bearing his human passenger.

  A desperate race ensued, one that Kate could see only in her mind’s eye. Beyond the powerful thumping of the whale’s heart, beyond the constant whipping of his tail, she could hear the enraged growling of the sea demon, and beyond that, the ever-increasing rumble of the impending eruption.

  For minutes that seemed like hours, the whale sped onward, swimming on a level keel. Then, unmistakably, the growling drew nearer, even as the chill in Kate’s bones grew stronger. A wrenching turn threw her hard against the whale’s jaws. The growling receded slightly.

  The whale raced through the depths. More and more often, the pumping of his tail would slow for several strokes before speeding up again. Kate could almost feel his growing exhaustion. She wondered how long he could keep this up, how long before the sea demon’s Own jaws would tear into them both.

  She tried to picture where they might be, recalling visions of the cavern, the coral jungle, the undersea stars, the ruins of the watery castle. All the while, the volcanic rumbling around them swelled louder.

  All of a sudden, the whale veered upward. Kate slid further down his titanic tongue, moist and reeking of krill. She realized they must be climbing back up through the abyss. She could only hope that no spiderlike monster would be waiting for them at the entrance. To the rear, the sea demon’s growling grew louder. Faster and faster beat the heart of the whale. Faster and faster beat Kate’s own.

  Was he going to try to carry her all the way to the surface? Even if they made it, how could they possibly stop the sea demon from getting them as well as the Horn? Fears rolled through her mind, one following the next, like waves on the beach.

  Then came a new fear, more potent than all the rest. Her air was running out! She gasped, or tried to gasp. Panic seared her brain. She needed more air, needed it now. She could not breathe!

  Her head started throbbing. Silently, she screamed. Her limbs and chest began to go numb. A shadow darkened her consciousness, made it hard to think. Hard to remember. Anything.

  The shadow consumed her. She lay still.

  Her head drooped a little, only as much as the fringes of baleen would allow. Yet that was just enough to bring her face near the curling Horn hanging from her neck.

  The fragrance, the feeling, surged through her once more. She opened her eyes. She breathed again.

  Her father’s first description of Serilliant came back to her, as though he were speaking right in her ear. Emrys endowed it with a virtue. Anyone who held it near could smell the fragrant air of the mountaintop, even if he did so at the bottom of the sea. She brought the Horn closer, inhaling gratefully.

  With a lurch, the young whale swung sideways. He was swimming horizontally again, his tail working frantically. He was not heading for the surface after all. Where then was he going?

  The rumbling rose to a crescendo. Though she could no longer hear the wrathful growling, she still could feel the creeping chill. She knew the sea demon was almost on top of them.

  The whale changed course again. Now he was turning in tighter and tighter circles. He seemed to be spiraling downward. As though he were entering the whirling wall of . . .

  In an ear-shattering blast, the sea floor erupted. The force of the explosion knocked the whale savagely, tossing him about like a tiny seed in a gale.

  Then, with terrible suddenness, his jaws opened. Out spilled Kate.

  XXX: An Unexpected Twist

  She landed, dizzy and disoriented, on a hard surface. She could feel the Horn, still tied around her neck.

  Half stunned, she stretched out her arms. A wooden deck! Could it be? She sat bolt upright. Her eyes viewed the ragged sails, the iron cannons, the weblike rigging. Her lungs drank the misty, sulphurous air.

  In the next instant, several things happened at once. Things that convinced her that she had indeed returned to the Resurreccíon, that she was indeed alive.

  The ocean floor shuddered, heaved and broke apart. Streams of molten lava and superheated gases burst into the water, hissing and roaring like thousands of turbines. The Resurreccíon rocked and pitched as if caught in a ferocious storm, forcing her to cling to the rigging to keep from flying overboard.

  At the same time, the whirlpool slowed dramatically and contracted, bringing the whirling wall within a few feet of the ship. Curtains of water rained down on the deck.

  As the whirlpool contracted, Kate caught sight of a gray streak circling in the vortex. The whale! Suddenly she understood the final few seconds of her wild ride. In those sharp, successive turns he had entered the whirlpool; in that downward spiral he had moved into its spinning core. Then, to keep her out of the sea demon’s reach, the whale had hurled her onto the deck.

  With a pang, she recalled Terry’s prediction that no living creature could survive the whirlpool unless it slowed down significantly. She wished she could tell him that he had been right. And, with deeper regret, she thought of how much her father would have loved to see this very ship. Even lashed by such a raging storm. Even for an instant. Even if the slowing whirlpool would soon collapse on itself, drowning the ship and anyone aboard under an ocean of water.

  Then she glimpsed, near to the whale in the spinning wall of water, the blurred, twisted form of the sea demon. The sight made her cringe. She had eluded those jaws, at least for now. But what of the whale, who had given his all for the small chance she might be spared? There was no way she could possibly help him. She could only clutch the rigging and watch, water pouring down on top of her.

  At that moment a cluster of new shapes in the whirlpool caught her attention. She could not be sure what they were, or whether she had really seen them spin past. Yet they seemed to be there, grappling with the sea demon, where they had not been only a split second before. And the sea demon seemed to be locked in battle, lashing out at these strange creatures that combined the bodies of people with the bodies of fish.

  An enormous wave struck the hull, pitching the ship to one side. Water flowed under the ship, dislodging it from the sandy bottom. Simultaneously, the whirlpool slowed substantially, and then—for the briefest fragment of a heartbeat—it stopped spinning altogether.

  In
that instant, time itself froze. The whirlpool did not move, the ship did not pitch, Kate did not breathe. Her only sensation was the certainty of imminent death.

  Then, just before the sea came crashing down upon her, the whirlpool started rotating again. Yet this time, something was different. At first she could not pinpoint precisely what had changed.

  In a flash she comprehended. The whirlpool was turning in the opposite direction. Wrenched by the force of the volcanic eruption, the whirlpool’s torque had reversed itself.

  More water flooded underneath the ship, surging, pushing, lifting. And then a strange phenomenon occurred.

  The ship began to rise.

  Like a corkscrew that reverses and lifts upward, the whirlpool twisted toward the sky rather than the ocean floor. Higher and higher it carried the ship, in a slow and stately spiral, climbing gradually to the surface.

  Kate’s heart leaped. Might she actually see land again? Might she actually bear Merlin’s Horn to safety? She craned her neck to look at the swelling circle of light above. Pastel pink and gold painted the sky. A new day was dawning.

  Without warning, a burly arm reached out and tore the Horn from her neck, snapping the coral necklace in two. She stared, aghast, refusing to believe what she saw.

  “So,” sneered Garlon, standing before her on the deck. “Did you think you could escape me that easily?”

  “Give it back!” she demanded, releasing her hold on the rigging. “It doesn’t belong to you.”

  The sea captain laughed raucously. “The Horn belongs to whoever has it! And I intend to keep it for a long, long time.”

  “Don’t, please. King Arthur will—”

  “Never see it!” He laughed again, wiping his nose on his shirt. “Nor will my brother, the great Merlin. He is the stupid one, after all! So stupid he won’t even leave a castle that is falling in.”

  “Merlin’s not stupid,” retorted Kate. “He just cares about others.”

  “Better to be alive,” answered Garlon. With that, he lifted the Treasure toward his face. He gazed at it in satisfaction, twirling it in his hands. He seemed captivated by the golden light playing on its surface, light that grew stronger with every turn of the spiraling ship.