by Chris Page
From his invisible position above, the long magus watched carefully as her shoulders began to sag and the arrogance and fight seemed to drain from her. Suddenly reinvigorated by the thought of the damage she could inflict through a final terminus, she straightened up, stretched her arms out wide, and began snarling like a wolf. Her capitulation and reinvigoration could only mean one thing, and he knew what it was. He also knew just how deadly it could be for anyone in the vicinity. He immediately switched off every bird image and transformed to the other side of the hill where the boy was waiting. Revealing himself, he held his hand up to still the many questions, then called to his hawks in the surrounding trees to flee the area as fast as their wings would take them.
“Tell your pica to follow my hawks … quickly!”
Twilight issued the command.
“Now take my hand. We are about to become a dark cloud!”
Far below them they watched as Elelendise, long white dress and blond tresses flying outward, gradually began to spin on the spot. With her arms still stretched out she began to gather pace until she became a blurred white ball of human parts that hummed on its axis. Then the white ball began to move. Gathering speed, it flew out over the ruined castle ramparts and suddenly began spitting out thunderbolts in all directions. The trees where the birds had been sitting moments before exploded into a flaming inferno as the missiles hit them. Clusters of explosions ripped into the ground, killing many of her own wolves as they cowered in terror. Next the spinning white ball turned back on the castle and zipping around the perimeter released thunderbolt after thunderbolt at the remaining walls and the earthen banks of the moat until all the water had quickly washed away. The earth shook and lifted in the tumult, and a pall of black smoke and dust hung over the scene like a blanket. Unrecognizable as a castle, the former mighty landmark on the hill resembled a huge pile of blasted rocks. Heading quickly down the valley the rapidly firing white ball destroyed everything in its path. The track along which Penda’s army had come and gone was reduced to a series of large, smoking craters; bridges, cattle pens, gates, and several hovels were summarily blown away. Back to the castle ruins, the white ball began firing in the air in a random pattern as if sensing that the long magus and Twilight were hiding somewhere up there. Wide of the mark, the airborne thunderbolts fizzled out and fell back to the earth. It was a show of wanton destruction for the sake of it, a spectacular death knell with no purpose other than the obliteration of everything in its path because the main battle had been lost.
Gradually the spinning white ball of thunderbolt-firing mayhem that was Elelendise began to slow down. The thunderbolts lost their impetus and began to fall to the ground, where they fizzed briefly, then died out. The wolf-woman’s human form was visible again as she flopped in exhaustion to the ground on a small stretch of undisturbed bank to the side of the smoking ruins.
“By the Nine Liar-Kings of Bisitum, she knows how to create carnage,” exclaimed Merlin from the safety of the dark cloud.
“Carnage utterly without purpose,” murmured the boy.
The long magus and Twilight had watched the scene of utter devastation unfold far below them. Grasping Twilight’s hand, the old astounder took them to a spot alongside where the exhausted wolf-woman lay.
“Have a care, skirmisher, she may have something left with which to surprise us,” said Merlin as they revealed themselves and approached her prone form, but it was immediately clear that Elelendise was a spent force. Life barely flickered in her face; just breathing, she didn’t even have the energy left to speak and regarded their arrival with faded blue eyes just about capable of recognition but too spent to register anything else. The fires of hatred and dominance that had burned deep inside her had finally been extinguished.
Twilight and the long magus stood above her for some time before the old sorcerer and victor leaned in to her face and without any trace of triumphalism spoke quietly.
“So, it comes down to this. Whilst it suited the immortals to keep you alive, it was so. That purpose is obviously no longer valid. Your abominable existence in these Celtic lands has come to an end. A wasted terminus as a finale to a wasted life. The scroll of every death you have caused will be rustling with joy at this moment, and the soul of each name, in whatever form and resting place your killing has left them, will be celebrating joyously.”
Twilight pointed to the sky, which had quickly became dark with birds, each carrying a blue feather; then he, too, leaned closer to the pale, still face framed by golden tresses.
“Here come my capricious pica and the beautiful yellow-eyed hawks with their tokens of thanks for your demise and remembrance of those you destroyed.”
Hundreds of blue feathers began to float gently through the thinning smoke and dust as the birds wheeled overhead and released their light cargo. Landing all around them, some on the wolf-woman’s face, the feathers carpeted the immediate area.
Merlin stood and raised his right arm to its fullest extent, palm open. His eyes glowed a momentary iridescent green, and he appeared to be looking deep into the rubble of the destroyed castle.
“Ventum Excalibur!” he said in a loud whisper.
A small section of rubble over what would have been the ceiling of the Great Hall of the castle suddenly burst open, and the mighty double-handed sword of Dux Bellorum fame, a weapon created by Merlin himself in order to glorify the myth of Arthur, flew out of the shattered castle blocks and landed handle first in the raised right hand of the long magus. Adding his other hand to steady the mighty heft, the old astounder stood for a long moment with the blade poised above the inert Elelendise. If she understood what was happening her exhausted face did not show it.
“Please don’t,” whispered the boy. “She is finished.”
The long magus looked down at him, the sword steady above his head. Then he looked back down at the exhausted, expressionless woman. As if showing him where to slice through her soft flesh, several blue feathers settled on her white exposed neck.
“I must,” Merlin said gently. “There is no alternative. She must be dispatched completely.”
He brought the great broadsword arcing downward with a swishing sound. The boy turned away with an anguished cry. Sparks flashed as the great blade struck bare rock, the shock sending it spinning from Merlin’s grasp. He gasped loudly in surprise, and the boy turned back expecting to see a blood-soaked body with the head severed. There was nothing there. Her body had disappeared before the sword struck. Blue feathers, disturbed by the vortex of the passing blade, wafted upward.
A loud thunderclap rolled over them. As it died away a deep voice began to laugh, its timbre echoing over the riven landscape.
Then, like the body of Elelendise, it was gone, and every wolf in Wessex began to howl.
There was great merriment in the Presidium; the show was going down well. The sight of the long magus fleeing for his life with the castle disintegrating around him had struck a particular chord with the gods, especially, Tiresias was pleased to see, with Zeus himself. They had also liked the way he had spirited away the near-dead body of Elelendise from under the flashing blade of Excalibur. Near-dead she may have been then, consigned to the forever state of oblivion now. Assured by the Seer of Thebes that there was more to come, Zeus called for Ganymede to recharge their goblets, and they settled back for more of the same.
Chapter Eighteen
“Do you think she was taken away by Tiresias?” The boy looked up at the long magus as they began to climb down the shattered rocks of the demolished castle.
“Couldn’t have been anyone else,” the old astounder said, easing his long legs over a still smoking, thunderbolt-scarred block.
“Will she be resurrected again and come back to seek revenge?”
The old wizard stopped and considered the question. In the background the wolves’ howling had turned into a mournful lament.
“No,
we are done with her. She is gone forever.”
“Despite everything she has done, I couldn’t have killed her or ordered someone else to do it,” said the boy. “I suppose I’m too soft, too placidus for this business.”
The old wizard thought for a while. “That is understandable in someone your age and with your inexperience, but evil must be confronted and extinguished or it will continue and multiply. The time will come when you will be faced with a similar situation. Don’t hesitate. Strike immediately.”
Twilight shuddered. He wasn’t looking forward to that at all.
Balancing carefully on a single splintered plank they crossed what had been the moat over the drawbridge and, walking around the many craters in the track, began to head into a small, thunderbolt-shattered wood. Dead and dying wolves were everywhere, and as they moved further into the trees the howling grew louder. In a small clearing they found what they were looking for: Pad and the small white wolf.
As they approached, the proud old wolf king fixed them with pale, unafraid eyes. Letting out a high-pitched snarl the small Lupa rushed at them, only to freeze on the spot as the long magus fixed him with an iridescent stare. He held his hand up in a sign of peace to the old wolf.
“It’s over. You are free to go back to your proper way of life.”
The old wolf looked at the carnage around him, then turned back to Merlin.
“There are only a few of us left. We are almost wiped out.”
“All it takes is one female and one male. Before you know it you’ll have a pack. You must lead your species back to their original strength.”
The old wolf considered this for a while. “I have very little time left. Building the species back to pack strength is a young cub’s game,” he said quietly.
“Not that young cub,” Twilight found himself saying, pointing to the frozen white Lupa. “You know what must be done with him, don’t you?”
Pad’s pale eyes looked at him for a long moment before the old head bobbed.
“It shall be done. Release him.” He held up a scarred paw toward Twilight with something draped over it.
“Here, this is for you. She gave it to me after we netted and killed forty pairs of your birds.”
The boy took the beak necklace from the paw, looked at it for a long time, then placed it around his own neck.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
As the long magus and his tyro walked out of the clearing the howling stopped. There was a short, choked-off squeal from behind them, then silence.
The old astounder looked down at Twilight with one bushy eyebrow raised and with something approaching a smile on his face.
“The meek, placidus boy has suddenly turned executioner,” he said.
The boy held both hands up.
“I know, I know.” He grinned back at him. “I just needed a little more time to grow into the role.”
“Moonlight, nightlight, half-light, daylight, warm light, after light - lux mundi - the light of the world and now … crepusculam!”
The long magus was mumbling away to himself as he and the boy walked toward Avebury, where they were going to pay homage to the mighty ringed stones of the venefici. In honor of the occasion Merlin had removed his long gray-and-blackstreaked beard and tied his hair in a ponytail. Their next stop would be Stonehenge for the Equinoctial Festival, which was due the following day. The old wizard had been mumbling away incoherently to himself ever since they had left the ruined castle.
“What does crepusculam mean?” asked the tyro, skipping ahead on the path along the top of the Ridgeway that they trod for the second time.
“Twilight. It’s Latin for twilight.”
The boy stopped, turned back with a grin, and shouted, “So I am Crepusculam. Crepusculam the Tyro, liege-lord of the pica, defender of the Celtic runes, and scourge of Wessex invaders from kings with great armies to odious wolf-women and, I do believe, about to become the holder of the great secret.”
The old astounder looked along the path at him for a long moment.
I am beginning to think that you are more than that, replied the long magus in mind-speak, accompanying it with a serious look. Far more than that. The boy skipped back to him, sensing that something was not as it should be.
What is the matter? he asked in kind, looking up at his mentor.
The long magus indicated a grass-covered bank where they could sit. Below them the solidly set symmetrical stone ring of Avebury, talisman site and final resting place of all resident Wessex venefici, awaited their reverential presence.
Staying in mind-speak, a precaution that showed he was worried about the conversation being overheard or interpreted by others, whoever and wherever they might be, the long magus looked deep into the boy’s dark eyes.
I am beginning to think that the wolf-woman was not the main focus of Tiresias’s plan to obtain the great secret from me and then use it to release the cowering dead on an unsuspecting world. She was a clever feint, a false trail to lead Mael and me away from the real perpetrator.
Do you know who the real perpetrator is?
Yes, I believe I do, but he doesn’t know it himself. He is being unknowingly manipulated, as indeed, I suppose, we all are.
Who is it?
The long magus held the boy’s gaze for a long moment.
You!
“Me!” The boy forgot the discipline of mind-speak and shouted out in surprise. “That cannot be true. I am with you in everything, your tyro. I wouldn’t ever do anything against your word, your teaching. I know nothing about …”
Twilight’s voice petered out in perplexed confusion as tears welled up in his dark eyes. The long magus smiled encouragingly and patted him reassuringly on the arm.
Don’t worry; it’s not your fault. The manipulation was cleverly planned and executed a long time ago, probably before you were born. Remember, the time span that we work to is infinitely more short-term than that adhered to by the immortals.
Composing himself the boy reverted back to mind-speak.
That means that my birth - your meeting with my mother - was pre-planned by Tiresias in order to play a part in this scheme. Not, as you thought, a natural meeting in order to produce me as the next in line as holder of the Wessex enchantments?
Merlin nodded.
As I said, we’re all being manipulated. Tiresias would have known that I could not be persuaded to ever use my powers as holder of the secret to release the cowerers, his ultimate aim in all this. He also knew the odds were that I would defeat Elelendise, and then I would reveal the secret to you. Getting you to release the cowerers would then be an easy matter. From his perspective, that is still the case.
How did you know it was me he’d picked?
Your persistence in asking me for the rest of the secret. Hardly a day has gone by when you have not asked for it. It occurred to me some time ago that your constant requests were beyond your normal behavior. I just didn’t make the necessary connection until recently.
I know half of the great secrets, though … don’t I?
This time the long magus couldn’t resist a loud chuckle.
You know half of something!
The boy considered this for a moment.
D’you mean that when we visited Stonehenge and you told me to engrave these words in my mind forever:
Always give your soul what it needs for peace.
Always give your heart what it needs for happiness.
Always give your conscience what it needs for justice.
That this carefully remembered couplet was not the first half of the great secret? It was all lies?
Merlin’s face became serious.
The very last thing on this turning earth that I want to do is lie to you. However, as you now know, matters are not always as they seem. Knowing such a great secret made you
vulnerable. A few harmless lines reduced your vulnerability and kept your never ending curiosity at least half satisfied. It was an old man’s caution, not an attempt to deceive.
The couplet was so good; it sounded just like one half of a great secret should.
Illusion, manipulation, and sorcery are always entwined. Now perhaps, you understand better why I gave you a few days’ view of the world in black and white. If you always remember that nothing is as it seems, you won’t get any surprises.
I hate being used like this. It makes me feel as if everything I do or say is driven by the will of another.
That, said the long magus with a twinkle in his eye, is only true if we obey the rules.
The boy suddenly perked up and grinned back impishly.
D’you mean we are going to break a few?
The long magus looked down at him.
Let’s just say we are going to sprinkle a little venefical stardust over a few of them, eh.
Twilight stood on the top of Silbury Mound alone. The manmade mound in a small valley alongside the Avebury Stones of Destiny had been a Celtic shrine and pagan calling place for many hundreds of years. Raising both arms in the air he turned around in a full circle, looked upward, and shouted at the top of his voice.
“Now I am complete. The great secret is mine. Nothing can stand in my way. Now I am complete.”
Snatched away on the breeze the words tumbled and soared into the air. The hope was that his words would be heard in strange, faraway places that were denied ordinary mortals and venefici. Twenty-four times he repeated this, then climbed slowly down the great mound to the bottom and then set off again along the Ridgeway path for the mighty stones of Stonehenge. Some way ahead of him the long magus plodded with the aid of a long stick for support. When the boy eventually caught up with his mentor, nothing was said between them and they continued their journey in a conspiratorial silence.