“For me as well. Where will you go from here?”
Caygek shrugged. “I want you to know, I’ve learned that those who are humbled the most have their eyes opened widest. I was hoping … hoping you’d have me as one of Arthur’s protectors.”
“But, Caygek —”
“Bedwir’s already sworn himself, and Peredur too.”
“But —”
“He’ll need more than two, won’t he?”
A smile crept slowly over Merlin’s face. “He’ll need an entire warband, yes.”
“Then you’ll have me?”
Merlin nodded, and they embraced.
The voyage back to Britain was, to say the least, uneventful considering the travails of their journey north. A solid, wooden hull helped with that, and they even had a sturdy cabin below deck to retreat to, warm themselves up, and sleep in. Garth sailed them on a different route, however, because the winds and waves forced them a long way westward before they could turn south.
Yet as the days passed, the ocean rolled on, and the winds blew them toward Dinpelder, Merlin’s worry grew. Was Natalenya still alive? Dread roiled his gut like a rancid meal he couldn’t get rid of. Each night he fell asleep holding on to the Sangraal, yet putting his trust in the God of the Sangraal as much as he could rather than the bowl itself. But it was hard, for when he tried to pray, his old doubts throttled him, and he had to beat them back with his newly strengthened faith. God was in control. God was sovereign and ruling from his throne.
When they sailed within sight of the Pictish coast, Garth kept them a safe distance away, and they followed this route down until they neared the northern lands of Atle’s kingdom. When the morning of their arrival came, Merlin was awakened by a shout from Garth, who stood on deck above the hold.
“Merlin, we’re here! Come quick!”
He rubbed his eyes, and in the dim light gathered his few things. Then he wrapped his cloak about himself, pulled himself up onto the deck, and stepped out into the morbid light of a thinly veiled sun, the wind running from the steerboard side. From the prow he spied the land of northern Britain, the little harbor village, and the great hill of Dinpelder beyond.
Smoke billowed upward from the fortress.
“What is it?” he asked Garth, who stood beside him.
“I was hopin’ you’d tell me.”
They sailed into the harbor and found the town in chaos, with villagers gathering things and many of them fleeing. Letting down the sail, Garth steered them near to the dock, and Merlin tied the ship to a post.
The smoke from Atle’s fortress thickened.
Merlin jumped out and spied Aulaf with some men loading barrels into one of the many small rowboats. No other large vessels could be seen in the harbor.
“Aulaf!” Merlin called. “What’s happening?”
The man looked up in surprise to see Merlin. He rushed over. “We are attacked, yah? We must leave!”
“We have friends at the hof!”
“It’s gone. Collapsed days ago. Very strange, yah? And even if you tried, you won’t make it. The Picti are burning the fortress, yah? Thousands of them!”
So Necton had raised an army and come back for revenge. Merlin shuddered to think of it. Atle had controlled most of the northern kingdom. Would Necton take it all? Would this increase the slave raids to the south? If that Pict knew Merlin and the others were here, he’d want Arthur back as his son.
“They’re coming!” Aulaf said. “And since you lost my little ship, all I have is a few rowboats.”
Merlin smiled at him. “I’m giving you this one, Aulaf. King Atle and his house will never need it again. But I need to find my friends — an old man and a girl who are strangers here.”
Aulaf gave Merlin a worried glance. “No girl, but an old man, yah. Named Colly-bar.”
“Colvarth … his name is Colvarth. You’ve seen him?”
“Sure, he was walking through the village less than an hour ago. Looked very sad. Asked if I had a shovel. He said he had to bury something. I told him there was no time, yah?”
Merlin gulped.
“Hey … you give me a bigger boat, you get your sword back. You may need it. I don’t know how to use it, anyway. I just catch fish and pickle ‘em, yah? Swords are no good for that.” He unstrapped a new leather scabbard from his waist and handed it and the blade to Merlin.
Merlin took hold of it, hardly caring. “W-Where’s Colvarth now?”
“Down the shore, I think, a brown house, yah?”
Aulaf yelled for his men to start loading the cargo onto Merlin’s ship. Before Aulaf could go and help them, Merlin grabbed his arm and turned him around.
“Don’t sail away without us.”
“Wait here, yah?”
“Yes.” Merlin turned and called to Bedwir, instructing him and the others to stay on the boat. Then he ran down the dock to the shore.
But he was quickly frustrated. A brown house? They were all built from a type of brown rock, every last one of them. The first house was deserted, with the door hanging open. The second one had the door closed, and Merlin knocked loudly.
“Colvarth! It’s Merlin,” he yelled, but no one answered. The next house was the same, and the one after that. At the fourth house, a man opened the door, brandishing a spear. Merlin backed away, telling him he wasn’t a Pict.
At the end of the row, he finally arrived at a ramshackle roundhouse with a rotting roof. What had been the door now lay in decayed chunks and splinters on the ground. He caught his breath when he heard the faint sounds of a harp. Stepping closer, he spied Colvarth sitting near a small fire with his eyes closed, playing a sad and mournful tune. Next to him lay a pallet lumped with moth-eaten woolen blankets.
Merlin’s words caught in his throat, so he purposefully scuffed his boot.
Colvarth saw him and his fingers froze on the harp strings. He stood stiffly, bowed, and shuffled over to him, his head down. “I saw the ship coming, and I’d hoped it was you. But I was afraid to —”
“It-It’s all right,” Merlin said, his throat closing up.
“That is best, for she needs the rest, and I didn’t want to wake her.”
“Wake her? You mean —”
“She sleeps, yes.”
Merlin blinked. “Aulaf, the man at the dock, he told me you needed to bury —”
“The dog, yes. Yapping thing! It choked on a bone and I could not save it, not that I was sure I wanted to, for it ate too much food. But it comforted Natalenya, so I tried.”
An arm raised up from the wool blankets, and Natalenya rolled to face them. The boils now covered her face, and she blinked at him.
“Colvarth, is someone here?”
The bard leaned close to Merlin. “She cannot see anymore, it is that bad.”
Merlin went to her, dropped to his knees, and gently lifted her into his arms.
“Who is this?” she said. “Colvarth, who is this?” She pushed him to arms length, sniffed the air, and then reached her hand out … and touched his nose gently, hesitantly. Her fingers found one of his scars and traced it down to his left cheek, wet with a newly shed tear. Then she pulled him close and they hugged in earnest.
“Merlin, you’ve come back to me. Is Arthur —?”
“He’s safe, and we have him with us. God gave us the victory, and Atle is dead, along with his household.”
But there was other news he didn’t know how to say.
“Loth died too.”
“I don’t care about him. I only want you. I only ever wanted you.”
He pulled back a little and turned his face to the side. “Not with the scars.”
She touched his chin and turned him to face her. Then she kissed him on the thickest scar that cut across his right cheekbone. “Always with the scars. Never without. You wouldn’t be you without each and every one. I need them. I’m safe with them and them only.”
Merlin cried, his mouth open and his breath catching in his throat. Did she really love hi
m that way? He had been wrong to doubt her. To doubt himself. Could he fully trust his heart to her? He would only know if he asked.
“Natalenya … will you … will you still marry me?”
She pulled away from him.
“Natalenya, I —”
“You can’t marry me. I’m untouchable … I’m …”
Now this was a switch. He’d worried about her ability to love him, while she couldn’t believe that he could love her. But he could, boils and all, and if he could love her unconditionally, couldn’t she do the same?
He stroked the hair on top of her head. “I don’t care about the sickness. I need you. No matter what happens, we’ll face it together, to the very end … Will you marry me?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, and turned back and embraced him again, sobbing onto his cloak, and he onto the blanket that lay across her shoulder, and he wanted their hug to never end.
Except — but he had to try. In trust this time, not in the Sangraal but in God himself. He knew that God meant good, and if he chose to heal her now, then fine. And if not, then God would do so in heaven.
He pulled back, wiped his eyes, and untied his bag. His hands shook as he slipped the Sangraal out and placed it in her hands. He didn’t even look inside, but rather trusted.
“Drink this,” he said.
“What is it?”
“Love and trust the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength … come what may.”
She drank from it, her blind eyes staring into nothingness. And then she blinked.
“Merlin!”
“Yes?”
“I see you. I can see you!”
And the black boils upon her face began to shrink away and melt into her skin. The oozing sores dried up and disappeared. A rosy flush returned to her cheeks.
She sat up, feeling the skin on her forearms, and pulled up her sleeves to look for any boils that remained — yet there were none. She smiled, then, brighter and happier than Merlin had ever seen. She stood on two hale feet and walked into his arms.
Colvarth coughed at the door, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, my Merlin, to interrupt, but we must leave. I fear it may already be too late.”
Outside, screams could be heard.
“The Picts are raiding the village. We must go, or become slaves again.”
Merlin led the way, holding Natalenya’s hand, and she helping Colvarth. He had them crouch down at each house as they made their way back along the shore to the dock. Some of the houses in the distance had been put to flame, and villagers ran past them, their arms full of blankets, pots, and weapons.
Merlin drew his father’s sword. It felt good to have it just now.
They barely made it to the dock in time, and when they reached the boat, Caygek threw them a rope ladder. Natalenya climbed up first, followed by Colvarth
Merlin grabbed on to the ladder and pulled himself upward. Caygek smiled and helped him onto the deck.eredur and Aulaf raised the sail, and Garth steered them away from the harbor.
That night they all gathered and ate roasted fish over an iron pot of embers. Natalenya sat next to Merlin with little Arthur eating from a bowl next to her. Taking her hand, Merlin squeezed it and asked, “Where shall we put ashore?”
She looked once more at him with her beautiful green eyes and leaned her head upon his shoulder. “Does it matter?”
He sighed. No, it didn’t matter. It really didn’t matter anymore.
Natalenya.
EPILOGUE
It was the time of Hanternos, and Mórgana had goaded the remaining four druidow to attend her at the Stone, including her impudent grandfather. Loth supported her with his ready blade in this task, but the druidow didn’t need much coaxing — they were, after all, hoping that some sign of life might come from the Stone.
And aiding her cause was their astonishment at her transformation from a girl to a grown woman. Mórgana reveled in her newfound strength.
And Loth was more than eager to see the Stone, all his questions about how he came to Kernow having been answered to his satisfaction. Indeed, though he mourned the death of his father, his father’s household, and the destruction of the temple that made their long life possible, he found a deep satisfaction in his association with Mórgana. The man longed to heap bloody revenge upon the heads of Merlin and Arthur, and in this they found their common ground.
The villagers were all asleep, the fools, and had no clue of the assembly upon their precious village green. A pasture for goats? Was that all they considered it? Mórgana would soon find out the truth.
The druidow began to chant quietly, walking in a wide circle around the Stone. Then her grandfather sprinkled ashes upon her head with a trembling hand, saying, “Thus … thus we make the circle of revelation. We call upon the stars in the sky, the creatures of the earth, our revered ancestors, and this dust of the nine sacred woods to aid us:
Rowan, mother of life; Holly, father of death;
Hazel, of darkest wisdom; Oak, of the stout club;
Birch, with the secret roots; Pine, of the otherworldly door;
Apple, feeding our flesh; Willow, of the unseen wind;
and Hawthorn, for the destruction of our enemies.
“These nine I plead with to bring forth the knowledge that is hidden.”
Mórgana knelt down amongst some abandoned copper coins and touched the craggy surface of the Stone — avoiding the offending blade that stuck out from it.
Mórgana must make the Stone speak once more. In the past, her grandfather had spoken to the Voice himself by touching the Stone, but there was a deeper secret here, for there were other voices hiding within the Stone.
Did Grandfather even know this secret? Mórgana doubted it. The Voice had told her, and her alone. To Grandfather, the purpose of the Stone was simply to enchant the stupid Britons so that they would follow him. How quaint. How boring. He knew nothing. Nothing. The orb and the fang should have been his clue, but did he even take a moment to ponder their origin? Why had she found them in the bottom of her father’s forge underneath the hole made by the sword?
But the faintest hint of a hum interrupted her thoughts — emanating from the surface of the Stone. She pressed her palms more firmly, bending her soul to the very center of the Stone, listening, because voices stirred within. Breathing. Sighing. Hungering. Speaking.
“I hear you,” Mórgana answered, “and I sense your power.”
Yet the Stone screamed at her. It was suffering at the intrusion of the blade.
“Then we must remove it. But how?” she asked.
An image of Merlin arose. Her brother hammering in the blade.
“We hate him,” Mórgana told the Stone, “for he will never remove it.”
A snarl of rage coursed through the Stone. A faint blue light flickered within, and then an image of High King Uther appeared.
Yet he could not remove the sword. “He was sacrificed upon you and is dead.”
Groans, rumblings, and cries echoed from deep within the Stone, and an image of Arthur, the heir of Uther, appeared.
Mórgana lifted her head and opened her eyes in wonder — Arthur? “He may be dead.”
The stone rumbled, sighed, and shook. An image came to her of Arthur, and he was alive.
Mórgana seethed, for Atle had failed to kill the boy. And so now Arthur was the only one who could pull the sword out besides Merlin?
“But he is still young, and it will take many years. A great trap must be thought up to deceive him, and this will be an immense effort. Why should I do this? What do you offer me in return for my ser vice?”
Smoke and blue fire rose from the Stone. Her hands began to burn. The sound of snapping jaws could be heard, and the Stone shook. Images began to swirl around her of all the Britons cowering in fear at her, and those who would not lying dead and torn before her.
Mórgana nodded. “I will do it.”
If the Voice and the Stone could wait, then Mórgan
a could also wait. In patience she would set her trap for Merlin and Arthur — and when the time was ripe she would have her vengeance.
PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
The following helps are for British names, places, and terms and do not apply to Latin. If you find an easy way to pronounce a name, however, feel free to ignore the following. Your first goal is to enjoy the novel, not to become an expert in ancient languages.
Vowels
a short as in far, long as in late, but sometimes as in cat
e short as in bet, long as in pay, but sometimes as in key
i / y short as in tin, long as in bead, but sometimes as in pie
o short as in got, long as in foam
u short as in fun, long as in loom
Consonants — the same as English with a few exceptions:
c / k hard, as in crank, not like city
ch hard, as in Scottish loch, or sack, not like chat
f f as in fall, sometimes v as in vine
ff f as in offer
g hard as in get, not like George
gh soft as in sigh
r lightly trilled when found between two vowels
rh pronounced as hr, strong on the h sound
s as in sat, not with a z sound
GLOSSARY
Pronunciation Note: The goal is for you to enjoy reading the Merlin Spiral series, and so, where possible, easier spellings have been chosen for many ancient words. For instance, the word gorseth would more properly be spelled gorsedd, with the “dd” pronounced similar to our “th”. This is also true of the decision, in some words, to use “k” instead of “c”. The goal is readability. A pronunciation suggestion has been provided for each word. Again, please don’t worry about how you say the names. If you find an easy way to pronounce something, that is fine. If you are a language purist, then indulge the author, knowing he is well aware of the depth, history, and complexities of the Brythonic and Goidelic languages represented here.
Also, since this spiral of Arthurian stories begin and end in Cornwall, Cornish has been chosen as a basis for many of the names and places. Though Welsh, Irish, or Scots Gaelic could have each served for this purpose, Cornwall is the nexus of the storyline.
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