by Paul Crilley
Nimue moved forward until she stood face-to-face with him. She laid her hands on the crystal, bowing her head as if in prayer.
At first nothing happened. Then the crystal started to melt, like ice turning to water. It dropped away from around Merlin’s body, gathering in hollows and dips on the floor, crawling slowly outward until finally Merlin and Nimue stood in the center of a large silver pool.
The others watched in rapt fascination as Merlin blinked, then took a great, shuddering breath of air. Nimue couldn’t look at him. She stared down at her feet. Merlin glanced around the cavern, then turned his glare on Nimue.
“A thousand years, Nimue.” His voice was hoarse and grating. “A thousand years!” he shouted. His voice reverberated around the cavern. Cob quickly ducked behind Jack.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and her voice was so filled with pain and anguish that Emily felt tears rise to her eyes.
Merlin stared at the top of her head, his frown gradually easing away. Finally, he sighed.
“Come here, my lady Nimue,” he said softly.
Nimue finally looked up. She and Merlin locked eyes, then they reached out and held each other in a tight hug. They stood like that for some time.
Emily looked away, feeling as though she were intruding on their private moments. She gestured for Jack to do the same, but he just waggled his eyebrows at her and grinned.
Finally, Merlin disentangled himself. “Now,” he said. “I’m assuming something bad has happened, yes? Time is of the essence, and all that? And I’m assuming it involves these three creatures, as well? Hello, Cob. I see you hiding there. Bet you’re glad I’m awake, eh? Now you can get on with your own life again.”
Cob stepped out from behind Jack and bowed shyly. “It’s been an honor to watch over you, milord.”
Merlin started to walk out of the pool, but as he did so his legs suddenly gave way beneath him. Nimue reached out and caught him as he fell to his knees.
“Merlin! Are you all right?”
“I …” Merlin put a hand to his head. “I don’t think so.” He glanced back at the pool of silver. “Your spell kept me alive, but … I think the years are trying to catch up with me.” He gripped hold of Nimue’s arm and pulled himself up. “You must take me to my workshop,” he said urgently. “It is of the utmost importance that I reabsorb my powers immediately.”
Nimue nodded and helped him over to the others. When he stood before Cob, he gestured for Nimue to wait.
“Cob,” he said slowly. “Before I go, I must thank you for all that you have done.”
Cob looked confused. “But I haven’t done anything. Except my duty.”
“Not so. You talked to me. You visited me. Every day for a thousand years. This was as much your prison as mine. I look on you as a friend, Cob. A very good friend. And I thank you.”
A smile as bright as a sunrise spread across Cob’s face. His eyes disappeared into the laugh lines around his eyes. “Do you really mean that?”
“I do. Now be off with you and go visit that family you were always talking about. I’m sure they are eagerly awaiting your return.” He turned to the others. “Let us leave this place, and you can explain to me what has been occurring.” He frowned. “Although with all the gaps in my memory, I’m not sure I can be of any help to you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Newgate. The forgotten prison.
Although Newgate had been used as a prison for over six hundred years, its original purpose had been to act as a gate in the old Roman wall that ran around what was then Londinium. But as London expanded beyond this wall, some of the gates found other uses.
William stared at the prison critically. “It still looks like a gatehouse,” he said.
And indeed it did. A hefty slab of brick with a large arched door in the center and a portcullis to lock people out. Small barred windows overlooked the street.
“That’s still part of the original wall,” said Corrigan. “But it’s been changed, expanded.”
“And how are we supposed to get in?” asked William.
“That’s where you get to thank me for coming along,” said Katerina. She turned and pointed to a large, Gothic-looking church a short distance down the street. “That’s St. Sepulchre. Where the priest who rings the execution bell comes from.”
“And how does that help us?” asked William, staring at the forbidding spires outlined against the dark sky.
“It helps us because there is an underground tunnel linking St. Sepulchre with Newgate. It’s how the bellman gets from the church into the prison.”
Corrigan turned around and gave his full attention to the church. “Is that so,” he said thoughtfully. “Well that is good news. Well done, human. Maybe you’re good for something after all.”
Before Katerina could respond, Corrigan trotted away from the both of them, heading toward the church.
“If he speaks to me like that one more time,” muttered Katerina,“I’m going to tie him up inside a sack and drop him into the Thames.”
Getting inside St. Sepulchre was a lot easier than William thought it would be. A window at the rear of the building had been left open a crack, and Katerina simply pushed it all the way up and climbed inside. William and Corrigan followed after, hopping from the window onto a small desk covered with parchment. Corrigan knocked over an inkwell, the black ink soaking into the paper and obliterating the writing.
“Be careful!” snapped Katerina
William dropped onto the floor and looked around the small office they found themselves in. “Now what?” he whispered.
“The crypts. The tunnel is below ground.”
She led them from the office and through narrow wooden corridors until they entered the main body of the church. It was much larger than the one where they had found Thomas the Rhymer. Moonlight streamed in through windows all around the walls, illuminating the high, arched ceiling and picking out the expensive paintings and decorations. Katerina hurried over to a heavy door with an inscription above the lintel.
William squinted up at it, but it was in Latin.
Katerina took a torch from the wall and lit it with the flint she kept in one of her pockets. She pushed the door open and disappeared, the light fading as she went. William swallowed nervously and followed after. The stairs didn’t go on for long. After only a minute or so they found themselves in the cool, dark rooms of the catacombs. William looked around, pleasantly surprised. He had expected cobwebs hanging from every surface. Spiders and beetles scuttling across the floor.
But in fact, the room was quite clean. The priests obviously took the time to make sure everything was kept neat and tidy. He supposed it made sense. If someone had to come down here to access the tunnel into Newgate, it was only logical they wouldn’t want cobwebs hanging everywhere.
They made their way through the room, walking past crypts and coffins mounted on stone bases. There was only one other door in the room, and that was against the far wall. The door was a heavy slab of solid oak. There was a ring of keys hanging from a nail next to the door.
This surprised Will for a moment, before he realized that Newgate wasn’t really concerned with people sneaking in. It was people getting out that was the problem. And seeing as the door was locked from this side, any escape attempts by the prisoners were doomed to failure.
Katerina quickly unlocked the door, revealing a low bricklined tunnel that disappeared into the darkness. She left the door slightly ajar, and they hurried along the passage. After about a hundred meters, they arrived at a second door, identical to the first. Katerina put her ear against the wood and listened. William wasn’t sure why, as the door was so thick he doubted you could hear anything through it. A moment later she straightened up and inserted the key in the lock, turning it carefully and pulling the door open a short distance. She put her eye to the crack and peered through, and only when she was satisfied did she open it all the way and lead them into Newgate Prison.
William followed
her through and found himself in what had to be one of the cells. It was tiny and cramped, a concrete room with a single door in the wall opposite. The door was locked, but Katerina tried the other keys on the key ring until she found one that unlocked the door.
“Are you two ready?” she asked.
“Of course we are,” snapped Corrigan. “And stop acting as if you’re the leader. You’re not. Now open that door.”
Katerina glared at him, but pulled the door open. A dark corridor lay beyond. William could hear someone moaning. He peered out and saw a line of doors identical to theirs. He stepped into the corridor. The doors had numbers painted on them, exactly like the doors in Tom the Rhymer’s vision. The one closest to the cell they were in had the number 13 painted on it.
They hurried out of the cell, moving quickly along the corridor. The sound of moaning and cursing grew louder, different sounds coming from each of the cells.
They finally arrived at number 40. The cell door was unlocked. William pushed it open to find it empty. Not even a cot.
They stepped inside and quickly closed the door behind them. William turned in a slow circle.
“There’s nothing here,” he said, disappointed.
Corrigan moved forward. “There has to be.”
Katerina moved slowly along the walls, holding the torch close to the stones. “It has to be this cell. It’s the only one not being used to hold prisoners. There must be a reason.”
Katerina carried on moving the torch along the wall. Eventually, the flame flickered, as if a gust of air had blown across the flame. She smiled triumphantly at them. “You see? You just have to know what to look for.”
The three of them then spent the next fifteen minutes pushing and prodding the stones, looking for some kind of catch that would release the hidden door they now knew was there. Katerina finally found it, a tiny switch hidden in a long groove formed by the meeting of wall and floor. But the catch wouldn’t budge. It was only when she dug the end of one of the keys into the groove that the mechanism released, a small door scraping outward to reveal a dark opening.
Katerina shone her torch inside to reveal a square platform made from wood. The platform was supported at the four corners by heavy ropes that were in turn attached to a second supporting rope looped through a pulley system.
“Interesting,” said Katerina. She stepped carefully onto the platform, then stood still to see if it would hold. It swayed under her weight but didn’t show any signs of giving way. William and Corrigan slowly joined her. The wood creaked and groaned but held strong. Katerina unhooked the rope that worked the pulley and started to lower them. The platform lurched, bumping against the walls of the shaft as Katerina carefully lowered them down. William moved over to help her, and they soon got a rhythm going that dropped them down at a smooth speed.
Will could feel the excitement building inside. They were close. He was sure of it. A section of Newgate Prison, walled away and kept secret. It had to be what they were looking for. What they would find was another matter, though. Surely not the Raven King? Not here. Unless he was under some kind of sleeping spell, locked away somewhere? It was possible, he supposed, but he didn’t dare hope. He didn’t want to face disappointment again.
It took them almost ten minutes to reach the bottom. The platform bumped against the ground and the ropes fell slack in William’s hands.
“Looks like we’re here,” said Katerina. She held the torch over William’s shoulder and leaned forward out of the shaft. A deserted, dusty corridor lay beyond. Silence filled the air. Nothing moved.
They stepped gingerly off the platform. The air was oppressive, filled with a heaviness that weighed on William’s spirit. There was a strange smell. It took him a while to place it, but he finally realized it was the smell of decay. But it was old, weak, an odor that tainted the very air they breathed.
William paused before the first door they came to. It was made from wood. He pushed it open, curious to know what had to be kept so far belowground. He took the torch from Katerina, slowly entered the tiny room, and raised the torch high above his head.
A horrific sight greeted him. There were chains fixed to the walls. Inside these chains was the skeleton of a huge creature, hanging from the manacles by its wristbones. The skeleton was easily over nine feet tall and was topped by huge, bull-like horns.
“A minotaur,” said Corrigan quietly.
William turned to find the piskie staring up at the skeleton. Then he gestured at the chains.
“Iron. They kept the poor thing locked up with chains of iron.”
“And they just left it to die?”
“Looks that way.”
“Do you think the other cells are the same?” asked Katerina.
“I have no idea.” Corrigan looked around with distaste. “At least now we know what they were hiding down here. A prison for the fey.”
They left the cell and hurried along the corridor, checking through each door in turn. It was an unpleasant task, but it had to be done, as they had no real idea what they were looking for down here. Not all the cells had skeletons in them, something William was very grateful for. He had no love for the fey, but to see their bones strewn about the cells like that turned his stomach.
They kept going until there was only one door left. The last one in the corridor. William glanced apprehensively at the others. What would they find inside? Something to help them? Broken hopes?
Katerina nodded, and William pushed the door. It swung open on squeaky hinges. William moved the torch into the doorway, pushing the darkness back into the room.
The first thing they noticed was that it wasn’t another cell. It was a large chamber furnished with tables and chairs.
But besides that, it was empty.
William entered the room. Thick dust covered every available surface, and it seemed this was all there was for them to find. William walked slowly around the perimeter, trying to fight off the despair that was threatening to overwhelm him. Why had Thomas the Rhymer sent them here? Will had been sure it had something to do with the Raven King, but it seemed this was just an old, forgotten prison. It didn’t seem as if anyone had been here for centuries.
The torchlight revealed another door up ahead. William brightened. Maybe there was another room. He hurried over and pulled it open, but he was doomed to disappointment. It was just an empty closet.
He slammed the door shut and turned away. As he did so, his foot sent something skittering across the floor, raising a cloud of dust into the air. He lowered the torch and found a book lying on the floor. He picked it up and examined it. It was covered with red leather. He opened it up, skimming over the spidery, untidy scrawl until his eyes spotted a familiar phrase.
The Raven King.
“Over here,” he called, taking the book to one of the tables. The book wasn’t big. It was more of a journal, used to record a series of notes. Little clumps of information. Katerina and Corrigan joined him.
“‘Notes on the Raven King,’” he read. “‘Classification: Very Sensitive. If you are not a member of the Invisible Order, stop reading now; otherwise, your eyes will boil in your skull. And this is a promise from Merlin the Enchanter.’”
William hesitated and looked at the others. Corrigan waved his hand impatiently.
“Go on. It’s a bluff.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Now carry on.”
William licked his lips, then carried on reading. “‘Who is the Raven King? It is probably more appropriate to ask what is the Raven King. He is a protector, a watcher over Britain. The legends say that whenever Britain is in danger, the Raven King will be awoken to protect the land from her enemies.
“‘It was Bran the Blessed who first came to this power. He was an early British King, a member of the Invisible Order. It happened during one of the wars with the fey. Through a series of circumstances too complicated to reveal here, he was chosen by Mother London to channel her power during times of dan
ger. (I hasten to add, he came up with his title all by himself. Bran is a Welsh word. It means ‘blessed crow.’ So he played around with it and came up with the Raven King. Bran always was one for show and pomp.)
“‘The power of the Raven King is a fearsome thing to behold. It burns bright and fast, devouring all who would stand in its way. Enemies tumble before the Raven King like trees in a gale. He is the last protector of Britain, but his is a terrible power and must only be used when all else is lost. I hasten to repeat this. If I am not there to advise you on this, make sure this is your last hope. The Raven King must not be summoned lightly.
“‘And just how do you summon him? Mother London spoke an incantation, something to be repeated at the proper place at the time of Britain’s need.’”
William looked at the others excitedly. “The incantation is here. Merlin wrote it down!”
“Skip over it for the moment,” said Corrigan. “Finish his notes.”
William nodded. “‘In the end, Bran fell in battle to a fey spear, but only after he saved us all from the armies of Faerie. Even when channeling the power of Mother London, the Raven King is vulnerable to normal weaponry. Something we were not aware of at the time. After the battle, we buried Bran beneath the Tower of London. It was his final wish.
“‘Even as I write this, I wonder if I am doing the right thing. But I have no other choice. Events are moving fast, and Nimue comes for me. There are a hundred things to do before Morgan Le Fey’s trap is sprung, and time is running out. I do not know what will happen. I do not know if I will survive. So I have no choice but to put ink to parchment and hope that this information survives until it is needed. I will take it into the Order’s prisons. They are unused now, so the information should be safe. Why even bother? I do not know. It is a gut feeling, an inkling that someday it might be needed. Am I being coerced? Is it Fate? I know not. Only time will tell whether this was a mistake or the right thing to do.’”