Ever My Merlin (Book 3, My Merlin Series)

by Ardis, Priya

  Even though the bed was comfortable, I didn’t get any sleep. I always figured when my heart fixed on someone there would be a sense of completion—instead I only got complication. Just the thought of Vane hurt. With Matt, I kept seeing the accusation in his gaze.

  The flat steps were packed, even in the middle of the night, and especially during Vesak Poya season. Tourists and pilgrims flocked together up the mountain staircase. In the middle of the jungle, electric lights illuminated our path and chanting blared from loud speakers, creating an otherworldly atmosphere that was also heavily laden with incense.

  Matt did a lot of backtracking down the trail to keep me in view as I enjoyed the sights—pocket villages, a few friendly dogs, statues of Buddha and Ganesha, along with small flags hung on ropes over the trail. I spent most of what little cash I had on the young children selling cheap souvenirs. Soon I had a collection of buttons, small flags, and stickers decorating my backpack.

  Matt’s impatient looks and even the insistent sprinkling of rain failed to make me hurry. It’s not as if I was purposefully trying to irritate him, but I didn’t feel the need to cater to his wants either. Approaching the top, the rain worsened and I gripped the railings to keep steady on the slippery, wet stone steps. Matt pulled out two plastic ponchos from his bag of tricks. I pulled one over my burnt-orange fleece. The green cargos I wore weren’t completely waterproof, so my best hope was for them to dry quickly. Matt’s outfit showed more preparedness. He wore a lined, burnt-orange jacket and green hiking pants. Although it wasn’t planned, our colors matched. At least we complemented each other on some small level.

  A few steps up, the scenery changed from jungle to cloud forest as the mist reflected various diaphanous shapes in the air. Graffiti marked the rocks with names and countries of origin of the former fellow travelers who’d come before us. Just before we reached the top, shivering from the gusts of wind, Matt picked up a few lotus flowers from a street vendor. For a second, I thought he’d bought them for me. When he tucked them into his shoulder bag, I told myself there was no pang of disappointment.

  Scores of people crowded the last steps in the misting rain. Nearly at the summit, a screeching blackbird flew over us as we poured into two narrow buildings. The buildings stood on either side of the steps, packing us in like sardines in a tin.

  I could barely perceive the outline of the tiered rooftop on the Buddhist temple clinging to the mountain’s peak. The triangular roof was said to match the perfect triangle of the mountain’s shadow. I clung to Matt’s hand to keep from falling.

  Passing the crowd of shivering bodies, we finally emerged onto the narrow steps of a flat, white stone terrace. A huddle of buildings spanned the two levels of the summit. On the lower level were guest quarters for overnight stays. On the second level, just above the stairs, stood a belfry. A pilgrim could ring a tin bell once for every time he or she ascended the mountain.

  We took off our shoes in deference to the holy ground. Along the two levels penned in by concrete ledges, people lined up to gaze out at the misty vistas of Sri Lanka. In one corner, a gorgeous view showed a cascade of waterfalls flowing down in faint silver, accenting dense green vegetation somewhere far across the island.

  Matt pulled me toward the center of the terrace. A huge rock face marked the highest point of the peak. Over the rock, a concrete walkway supported a shrine and a small temple. The tiny shrine enclosed the sacred footprint, or Sri Pada.

  Matt handed me one of the lotus flowers he’d bought.

  “For luck,” he said, and pointed to the top of the rock at the foot of the shrine. Touched by the sweet gesture, I placed it there. Many other lotus flowers decorated the rock. People crowded the railings, standing on top of small ledges, and taking up most of the free space in front of the temple. Fat raindrops wiggled down from the stormy sky. I looked into the sodden faces of the throng. I doubted we’d be seeing any sort of sunrise. Seeing their dour expressions, I knew they’d come to the same realization about the sunrise.

  Matt cursed under his breath and squeezed back across the narrow space between drenched bodies until he reached one corner of the terrace. He drew out an amulet from the magic bag and put it on around his neck, shouting, “Kavas.”

  People closest to us watched curiously, but thanks to the diversity of cultures and people, no one commented. Dark rain clouds began to clear. People first muttered, then cheered. They moved toward the outward edges of the terrace. Meanwhile, Matt hurried us in the opposite direction, back toward the sacred footprint shrine. He stopped at the base of the stairs that led up to the shrine, sandwiched between several hundred people.

  Matt leaned close to my ear. “Be ready. As soon as the sun rises, the priests will start their prayer procession and the mountain will fall into shadow for twenty minutes.”

  Two minutes later, the beginnings of the most beautiful sunrise ever conceived broke over the summit as the clouds dissipated. An invisible Apollo rode his chariot across the heavens, ushering in the blue sky. The yellow-and-red fingers of the dawn dropped down and fire illuminated the dark island. On one side of the island, majestic mountains, lush green flora, snaked with silvery threads of waterfalls, sprouted from the fertile ground. On the other side, blue and purple lines evidenced a distant ocean.

  Beside us, the morning prayer procession started down the temple steps in a thumping of drums. In a parade of saffron orange-yellow robes, monks emerged from the temple and everyone beside us turned to look. Those inside the shrine came out to stand on the steps. They watched the musicians in white muslin. Some banged on drums, some blew on trumpets, and others chanted. Beside us, the pilgrims held up platters of food and rice.

  Matt and I snuck up the steps and into the emptied walkway. Matt and I snuck up the steps and into the emptied walkway. Plastic curtains kept out rain, protecting the closet-sized five-foot wide shrine. The shrine itself had two open sides, but a wall of people’s backs closed off the walkway. Inside the cramped interior of the shrine, a golden half-door hung open above a platform. Curtains of white and yellow cloth draped the opening of the platform. Inside the cubby-like area lay the engraved footprint.

  Matt drew out a vial from his bag and threw it above us. A bubble of blue magic surrounded us before it winked out. Without a word to me, he threw another vial at the rock. The rock blew apart, and with an ear-deafening bang, shrapnel flew at me.

  “What are you doing?” I shouted, mindful of the people walling us in. They remained with their backs to us, their demeanors unperturbed.

  “No one can hear outside the bubble,” Matt said calmly.

  “I hate treasure hunting with you.” I eyed the people nervously, but no mob turned on us. Still, my nerves danced in panic. “Please tell me why you destroyed a sacred relic.”

  Matt pushed aside the broken rock. Just beneath the footprint he blew up sat another one. “This is the real relic. The top is only a plaster replica.”

  Outside, sunrise fully embraced the sky. People started to fall out of its trance.

  I stared at the footprint. Smaller and rougher than the plaster one, it did look like it could belong to a thirty-five-foot-tall giant or a god. Buddha or Shiva’s foot as he stepped on Earth, or Adam’s footprint after his exile from the Garden of Eden. Buddha or Shiva’s foot as he stepped on Earth, or Adam’s footprint after his exile from the Garden of Eden. “I don’t see the Healing Cup.”

  Matt frowned. “I thought there would be some kind of symbol or something.”

  “You’re insane, Merlin,” I hissed. “I thought you knew what you were doing.”

  “This is the spot. Adam’s Peak. All the different legends converge here. The Buddhist’s say the Triple Gem, their holy trinity, manifests when the shadow falls over the mountain during sunrise. Alexander the Great thought the same.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said.

  Matt ignored me and continued to mutter, “He came here. He had to be right. This place is marked by the legends of gods.
If they hid a secret, it will be here. They wouldn’t leave a marker like this for no reason.”

  “They who?” From the open sides of the shrine, a burst of sunlight streamed onto the rock. I stepped closer to the exposed footprint and the rock started to hum. Out of instinct, I put my hand over the footprint. A shot of electricity from the rock zapped my hand. I pulled my hand back and shook it. “Whoa, what was that?”

  Matt’s face brightened. “A small portal.”

  “Like the one at the Seven Gables?”

  Matt nodded.

  “That was not fun.” Watery death surrounded that portal. Matt drew out another vial from the bag. I grabbed his wrist. “You are not going to desecrate a sacred relic.”

  Matt smiled. “It’s just your blood.”

  I squawked. “How do you have my blood?”

  “Blood donations. After you became the sword-bearer, the First Member recovered all the deposits you’ve ever made.”

  “That’s just creepy.”

  He raised a brow. “Vane tracked them all down.”

  “Really creepy,” I repeated.

  It reinforced my belief that I was just another commodity to the Wizard Council. Nearby us, people groaned. Grey rain clouds started to darken the horizon once more.

  “Hurry,” I urged.

  Matt drew out another lotus bloom and threw it down. He poured the blood onto the footprint, on the heel at the same spot where the sunlight touched. Immediately, the rock rumbled. A small vortex of wind swirled around the room. A single beam of gold light shone upwards. Inside the beam shimmered a square metal cross. It was about a foot long with symbols engraved down one stem, the stipes. A red gem sat at the center of the cross like an ancient eye.

  “It’s a Greek cross,” Matt said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve seen it before. The Lady wore this on a chain.” Matt reached out to take it.

  I stopped him. “No, let me. It was my blood that opened it.”

  Matt nodded. I grabbed the small statue. It solidified in my hand, and then the shrine started trembling. Lines cracked through the floor around the sacred footprint. It started expanding outwards. The whole rock fell through the crack.

  “Oh, crap,” I said. “Why do these things always have booby traps?”

  People turned to look at the commotion. Gasps of horror followed.

  Matt grabbed my hand as he pushed into the crowd. “Because you’re not actually supposed to find a relic unless you can prove you’re worthy.”

  “We used my blood to get to it in the first place. How am I not worthy?”

  “You don’t have Excalibur,” Matt pointed out.

  I thrust the cross into my pocket. No one stopped us as we squeezed into the crowd. Everyone else wanted to get off the walkway, too. Behind us, the shrine shuddered. There must have been over a thousand people on the terrace who all began to panic. Under the howl of rain from above, the buildings on the summit shuddered and the whole mountain trembled.

  “Is it the Total Tremor again?” a panicked tourist shouted.

  We made it down the steps of the shrine. People streamed off the top levels toward the exits. The belfry tore apart. The pilgrim bell fell to the ground with a loud clang. Hysterical shrieks became louder. Huge blocks of stone tumbled off the collapsing shrine and temple. They landed like grenades on the terrace.

  The charm around Matt’s neck glowed, and somehow, a small space opened for us through the crowd of crazed humanity. We made it to one of the two narrow exits—steep steps that led down the mountain. Several people cried out under the onslaught of shrapnel rocks from the collapsing shrine. The river of humanity around us tightened as people shoved and fought to get to the exits.

  Matt navigated me through them. I glanced behind me. The whole shrine had fallen into the sinkhole opened by the portal. For a second, I thought the worst was over. Then, the mountain rumbled once more. A single crack extended from the spot where the shrine had been and out towards the huts in which the priests lived. The whole summit was going to collapse.

  Those who were able-bodied streamed down the mountain as quickly as they could. Several elderly pilgrims huddled together, their mouths moving in silent prayer.

  “Matt, there’s no way these people are going to make it out,” I shouted above the noise, yanking him to the side into a small, hidden corner under a rock outcropping.

  “There’s nothing we can do!” Matt yelled back. “Even if I used every charm I have, there’s not enough magic to stop this.”

  I took hold of his chin and turned it so he could view the collapsing summit. The sinkhole widened. More people shrieked as they pushed forward. The monks were gathered beside the elderly, trying to help them join the fleeing visitors. “We did this, Matt. We have to help—”

  Matt pulled away. “There is nothing I can do.”

  “Not you, but—” I pulled out the Dragon’s Eye from my pocket and started to unwrap the handkerchief around it.

  Matt grabbed my wrist. “No!”

  With a quick, accomplished twist, I freed myself. “Do you have a better plan? Because I’m not letting a single person die up here because of us—that’s not good enough for me.”

  Matt cursed. I saw him work over the possibilities before he came to the same conclusion. He took the amulet from me. “You’re not doing this—I am.”

  I watched him unwrap the amulet. He touched its chain and it started to glow. I slapped my hand over his.

  “Ryan—” Matt hissed.

  I ignored him. I called urgently, “Vane.”

  Closing my eyes, in my mind, I saw a shut, wooden door. Matt appeared beside me on a grey cloud. He wore his usual grumpy look. Around us, nothing existed but a hazy limbo. Underneath, we stood atop a surprisingly solid cloud. Matt lifted a medieval-looking door latch. The wooden door swung open toward us.

  Vane lounged against its thick doorframe on the other side. “Both of you. You must be desperate.”

  “A mountain is collapsing,” I said, trying not to squelch a visceral rush of pleasure at the mere sight of him.

  “Interesting.” He grinned as if he could read my thoughts—which he could. “And how did you do that?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Matt quickly. “Can you stop it?”

  Vane paused. “Adam’s Peak.”

  Beside me, Matt ground his teeth. “Yes.”

  “Now, what could you possibly be doing there?”

  “What do you want in exchange, Vane?” Matt ground out.

  “Ah, you know me so well, brother.” Vane smiled. “The snake, of course.”

  Matt scowled. He glanced at me. I raised my brow. As if he didn’t know my answer.

  “Agreed,” Matt groused. “We’ll leave it somewhere for you to pick up.”

  The green depths of Vane’s eyes flickered. “Or you could take a sip now.”

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t work on me.”

  “You tried? After I asked?” He smiled devastatingly.

  The green in his eyes receded. I ignored my heart when it skipped a beat.

  “You shouldn’t have,” Matt said furiously. “It could have killed her.”

  The clouds shifted under Matt and me, a rumble of distress reminding us of the mountain’s shortening fuse. I stumbled. Matt caught and steadied me.

  “Stop being a bastard,” said Matt. “We agreed to your demands. Are you going to help or not?”

  Green flashed in his eyes. The monster stirred. Its eyes locked on Matt’s hands around my waist. Vane snapped his fingers. Matt disappeared.

  “What?” I started, stumbling again with my support gone. I caught the doorframe with my hand. It brought me uncomfortably close to Vane.

  Vane leaned into me. “He was getting tiresome.”

  I stayed in place. “Are you going to help or not, Vane?”

  He looked at his cuticles with a bored expression. “There’s the matter of price.”

  “Do you always have a price?
”

  “Always,” he promised. Straightening away from the doorframe, he shook his finger at me. “Why didn’t you tell me that the Medusa blood is gone?”

  Matt had agreed too easily, and Vane had seen right through it. I swallowed. “What do you want, Vane?”

  He leaned closer. Lips hovered over mine. Vane’s hazel eyes with only a faint ring of green around the irises. He said, “You took the blood.”

  I was mesmerized. I whispered, “Yes.”

  His lips pressed hard, crushing soft flesh against unyielding teeth. Lightning in a bottle, electricity crackled across my lips. The ground shifted and I could have cared less, lost in the rapture of the kiss. The sensations spiked, threatening to overwhelm me. Then, he pushed deeper. His fingers tangled in my hair.

  “You’re mine, sword-bearer,” the monster whispered.

  I shoved at Vane’s chest and pulled back, managing to add a few inches between us. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

  Hard green covered his irises like a shield. “Did you kiss him yet?”

  “Why do you care?”

  Vane’s lips twisted into an icy smile. “You’re the sword-bearer. The fate of this world rests in whoever controls you.”

  I gasped. I couldn’t help it. The cruel words ripped at the core of all my fears. My hand shot out to slap him. He caught it before I could connect with his cheek. His other hand tightened in the tresses of my hair, making me wince.

  He growled, repeating, “Did. You. Kiss. Him?”

  “None. Of. Your. Business.”

  “Good,” he replied, seemingly satisfied.

  I scowled.

  Green receded from his eyes and he released me. “Put on the necklace. I’m not close to you and you don’t have Excalibur. Channeling my power is not going to be easy.”

  “When is it ever easy with you?” I muttered.

  A finger slid along the line of my jaw. “It could have been.”

  He snapped his fingers again and limbo began shifting. Fluffy bits of white cloud rose around me and hardened into forest-green hedges. The world darkened and we stood, once again, in the maze on Aegae. I gazed at Vane. The words we said—the decision I made when I didn’t choose him—throbbed within the confines of the hedges. Silent shadows haunted the air, oppressive mournful shapes that threatened to swarm me, sucking the life from my bones.