by Eloise Flood
“Crude, but definitely efficient,” Piper commented as they hurried on their way.
The entrance to the great hall was through a pair of tall, heavy-looking oaken doors. A smaller door was set into these. Piper pushed it open, and she and Prue slipped inside.
Prue blinked in the dimness. They were in a single immense room, its floor strewn with rushes. Rows of long tables were lined with benches. At the far end was a raised platform with another table on it, this one round. It was ringed with high-backed chairs, among them a massive carved wooden throne. Except for themselves, the room was empty.
“This must be their banquet hall,” Piper said in a hushed voice. “And that must be the Round Table.” She gave a slight shiver. “Wow. Suddenly it all seems more serious, somehow.”
Prue nodded. “I know what you mean.”
They moved forward, looking for stairs that might lead to the tower. There were several openings off to the sides, but as far as Prue could tell from glancing down them, they seemed to lead to other, smaller rooms—sleeping quarters for the king and his lords, she guessed.
“Prue, over here!” Piper called after a few moments. Prue hastened to join her sister at the rear of the great room.
Piper had found a small door hidden behind the dais where the Round Table sat. Opening it, Prue saw that it led outside. A few yards away, the tower rose up, gray and forbidding. A doorway led into a shadowy interior.
“All right. Come on,” Prue said. She and Piper ran across the open ground to the tower. Prue hesitated a moment before the doorway, feeling a sense of foreboding.
We’re on a mission, she reminded herself, and stepped inside the tower.
Inside, they saw that a set of stairs spiraled up the curving walls of the tower, set into the stone. There was no banister or handhold. Torches burned in iron brackets at intervals along the way. Without them it would have been pitch-black—the tower had no windows. Prue strained her eyes, but she couldn’t see where the stairs led to.
They began to climb. Prue was in the lead.
“I hope he’s up there after all this,” Piper said nervously. Her voice echoed in the shadowy space.
“Shhh,” Prue cautioned. She stopped climbing, her senses alert. Had she heard something in the gloom above them?
She and Piper stood for a moment, listening. But there was only silence. After a moment Prue beckoned to Piper, and they kept climbing.
Prue’s feet began to feel heavy. Sweat trickled down her forehead and stung her eyes. Behind her, she heard Piper’s breath rasping.
Wow, this tower must be a lot taller than it looked from a distance, she thought. She forced her legs to take another three steps. Either that, or we’re both seriously out of shape.
Then another possibility sprang into Prue’s mind. Or there’s magic at work here.
As soon as she thought that, she knew it had to be true. Gasping for breath, she raised her head and saw that a tall, gray-bearded figure in a long blue robe stood above her on the stairs. Iron gray hair waved back from a high forehead. Deep-set eyes burned down at her from under shaggy brows.
Merlin!
From Piper’s sudden silence, Prue knew her sister had spotted him, too.
Before Prue could speak or even gather her thoughts, the enchanter uttered a sharp phrase. Suddenly Prue found that her feet seemed to be glued to the stone on which she stood.
Behind her, Piper let out a little cry. “Help!”
Instinctively, Prue lashed out with her mind. The force would have sent any normal person flying backward.
But Merlin merely staggered a bit. He gave
Prue a contemptuous smile and made a slight turning gesture with his right hand.
Prue gasped. It felt as if there was a giant hand inside her head, pressing down on her brain. She tried to use her power to throw it off, but she couldn’t.
“Piper—he’s neutralizing my power!” she whispered, panicked. She was totally helpless!
“He thinks we’re trying to attack him. We’ve got to convince him we’re not—and fast!” Piper said urgently. Raising her voice, she added, “We’re not here to harm you. We need your help. Please!”
Merlin barked out a question. But he spoke the same weird-sounding language as everyone else in Arthur’s court. Prue had no clue what he was asking.
“We don’t speak your language,” she said. “Do you have a translation spell?”
Merlin scowled and said something else.
“Don’t you get it? We can’t understand you!” Prue cried. She was starting to get desperate. How could everything have gone so wrong?
Merlin’s expression grew even darker. He raised his left hand, and Prue saw that he held a long, gnarled wooden stick, covered with intricate carvings. Slowly he leveled the stick at Prue and Piper. He began to chant.
Prue felt a moment of cold horror. He was about to blast them into oblivion!
CHAPTER
11
Wait!”Piper yelled desperately. “We’re here to help your son, Niall. Niall!” Merlin’s voice broke off. He stood motionless, the long staff still pointing at Piper and Prue. But now his deep-set eyes held a question.
“Niall! Your son!” Piper said again. Cradling her arms in front of her, she made a motion as though she were rocking a baby to sleep.
Merlin slowly lowered the long carved staff. He took a step down the stairs. Then he said several words. Piper had no idea what they meant, but his voice went up at the end. He was asking them a question.
“We don’t understand you,” Prue told him. She pointed at her ear and then shook her head.
Merlin’s eyes narrowed. He said something else, gesturing emphatically with his left hand.
“Oh, this is hopeless,” Prue muttered. Her voice was full of frustration. “He’s the greatest enchanter of all time. Can’t he just make up a spell to translate?”
Merlin made an abrupt slicing motion with his left hand. Piper staggered as her feet suddenly stopped feeling glued to the floor. “Whoa!” she cried.
Merlin crooked his finger at the sisters, beckoning them on. Then he turned and swept up the stairs and through the door at the top.
Exchanging a wondering glance, Piper and Prue followed him.
As she stepped through the doorway, Piper felt as though she were entering a different world. Merlin’s chamber was a riot of color. It was filled with exotic-looking objects: a silver mirror with a carved ivory frame, a tapestry of brocaded Chinese silk, an abacus, a set of beakers made from heavy blue glass. Absent was the heavy, damp chill that permeated the air in the rest of Arthur’s castle. Here the air was warm and dry, and the room was bright. The reason for this was immediately obvious—at the base of each window-opening, a line of small white flames danced in the air.
“Magic heaters,” Prue observed in a hushed voice. “Pretty cool.”
Stacks of parchment covered in writing lay on every surface, weighted down with wooden blocks. Some of the writing appeared to be runic, but some was in the good old Latin alphabet. Peering at the stack nearest to her, Piper recognized a couple of Latin words. “ ‘Rex potentiam,’ ” she read aloud. “I think that means “powerful king.”
Merlin rapped the parchment with his stick and rattled off another question. Piper still didn’t understand him, but she caught the word “Romani” in there.
“I think he’s asking us if we speak Latin,” she told Prue. She turned back to Merlin and shook her head. “No, but you’re getting warmer.”
Merlin’s shaggy brows drew together. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. Then he strode to another pile of parchment and began rooting through the pages, scattering them to right and left as he searched for something.
A moment later he let out a cry of triumph and held up a sheet of parchment. He peered at it for a second as if studying it. Then he sketched a series of signs in the air with the tip of his staff and uttered a long, complicated string of words.
“Wow,” Prue murmured. “What a ton
gue-twister!”
“It is indeed,” Merlin agreed.
Piper’s mouth fell open as she stared at him. So did Prue’s. He chuckled.
“Yes, now I understand your barbarian tongue,” he told them. His expression abruptly grew fierce again. “Now speak, witches, and tell me by what black art you know the name of my son who is not yet born!”
Piper gulped. “I guess you’re a little suspicious of us,” she ventured.
“You are witches,” Merlin stated.
“But we’re on the side of the light,” Prue told him. “We are here because we’re trying to help your son.”
“How can he need help when he is not yet even in this world?” Merlin demanded. “My wife, Nyfein, told me only three days ago that she was carrying my son. And I have not spoken even to her of the name I have chosen for him. How can you know these things?”
Piper took a deep breath. This was the hard part. “Well, the fact is, we’re from your future,” she said.
“Far in your future,” Prue added. “More than fourteen hundred years, actually.”
Merlin stood very still for a moment. Then he arched one eyebrow. “Go on.”
He’s a cool one, Piper thought with a touch of amazement.
“Your son was brought into our time by an enchantment,” Prue explained. “The people who brought him want to use him for their own, evil purpose.”
Merlin frowned. “What purpose?”
Prue glanced at Piper. Then she described the Druids’ plan to have Niall father a child with Diana.
“They believe the child will have your power and more,” Piper added. “If Niall refuses to help them, they’ll let him die. My sisters and I are trying to help him get back to his own time, so that he can live and not have to do this evil thing.”
“We believe you’re the only one who can bring him back,” Prue said. “He told us about a letter that you wrote him, in which you said that if he was ever lost in a land of strangers, you had written a spell that would bring him home again.”
“Did I, now?” Merlin said. “And why would I write him a letter, I wonder? Why would I not just tell him?”
Prue glanced at Piper again. Her look was troubled. Piper felt an answering flutter of uneasiness. Did Merlin not know what his future held? Did he not know that soon he would disappear into a magical prison and never actually meet his son?
And if he didn’t know, how could they possibly tell him? If Merlin learned that his life in the real world was near an end, wouldn’t he do something to change his fate?
If he did, he could well change history.
“I thought you had the second sight,” she said carefully.
“Ah, I understand,” Merlin said softly. “You think I know my own future. No. I do not. But I understand that you cannot tell me what is to come. Continue.”
Piper let out a long breath of relief. “Well,” she said, “we found the spell you wrote for Niall. The problem is, the bad guys destroyed it before we had a chance to use it.”
“So my sister and I came back to your time to get it directly from you,” Prue finished.
Merlin didn’t speak right away. He perched on a high wooden stool in front of his writing table and laid down his staff. Steepling his fingers, he sat staring into the distance for a long moment.
At last he cleared his throat. “Tell me. What does my son look like?” he asked.
At the yearning tone in his voice, Piper felt a sudden, aching sympathy for him. “He has dark hair, and eyes the same color as yours. He’s strong and handsome,” she said gently. She thought of how loving Niall was with Phoebe. “And he has a good heart.”
“You should be proud of him,” Prue added.
“Ah,” Merlin said again. He sat still for another minute. Then he reached out and drew a fresh sheet of parchment toward him. Dipping a quill into a pot of gluey brown ink, he began to write.
“Is that the spell?” Piper asked.
“Of course,” Merlin replied without lifting his head. He paused a moment, quill in the air, his lips moving as if he was working out some equation in his head. Then he started to scribble again.
A grin spread across Piper’s face. She felt light with relief. They had done it! They had found Merlin, and made him believe the incredible truth, and soon they’d have the spell Niall needed to get back to his own time.
Then she thought of Phoebe, and how devastated she would be when Niall left her.
Poor Phoebe. But it couldn’t be helped.
The room was silent for a while, the only sound the scratching of Merlin’s quill on the parchment. Then a babble of voices outside drew Prue and Piper to the window.
Gazing across the walled compound, Piper saw that the great gates were open again. This time, in addition to the wagon load of wounded men, there were half a dozen figures roped together in a line, being guarded by a cordon of spear-carrying soldiers. A crowd was trying to push past the guards, screaming and throwing rocks at the prisoners.
“They must be prisoners of war,” Prue said, staring at them. “They’re all so big and blond. I wonder if they’re Vikings.”
“They are Saxons,” Merlin said from behind them. They turned and saw that he had paused in his writing to look at them.
“Invaders from the east,” he went on. “They are nothing but ignorant barbarians, and Arthur is the greatest war leader of his time, but still, they will triumph in the end.”
“Is that a prophecy?” Prue asked.
He gave a tired smile. “In a way, though not in the way you mean. No, I simply speak a truth that is clear to anyone with the eyes to see it. There are too many of them and too few of us. They just keep coming and coming. And we are tired. We have not had more than a few months of peace since . . . I can’t remember when. Arthur took the throne with a vow to bring a new era, an era of peace. But even if he succeeds, it will all crumble when he is gone.” He sighed deeply. “Our rule is over; our way is finished. It is only a matter of time.”
Piper stared at Merlin. How could he be so calm, sitting there predicting the downfall of his own culture?
He seemed to shake himself. “But let us speak of problems we can solve,” he said, rising to his feet. He held out the parchment to them. “Here is the spell you seek. I thank you for your care of my son.”
Prue stepped forward and took the precious document. “Is there anything you’d like us to tell him?” she asked.
“No, though again I thank you. I believe I will tell him myself. After all, has not a prophecy told me that I am to write him a certain letter?” Merlin said with a smile. He drew another sheet of parchment toward him and dipped his quill in the inkpot again. Then he paused, a faraway look in his eyes.
A shiver ran down Piper’s spine. “Prue, do you realize what just happened?” she whispered. “Merlin never would have written that letter if we didn’t tell him about it. I think we just became part of ancient history!”
“I know. Come on, let’s go before we do something to mess it up,” Prue replied with a smile.
Holding hands, they chanted the spell that would bring them back to their own time and place. The room began to fade away around them. Piper took one last peek at Merlin. He was bent over his writing table, his quill flying over the parchment.
And then their own hotel room faded in around them, and the sounds and smells of modern-day Hay-on-Wye.
“Wow,” Prue said. She sank down on the daybed and pulled off her white headscarf. “That was intense.”
“I’ll say,” Piper agreed. She picked up her watch from the desk. “Whoa. Almost noon. We’d better go find Phoebe and Niall and give them the news.” She bit her lip. “I’m not sure whether it’s going to be good news or bad news to them.”
“Well, it’s the best we can do,” Prue pointed out. “And once Niall is safe, we’re free to do whatever we have to to help Mrs. Jeffries. Let’s not forget about her.”
At that moment they heard the sound of a key turning in the front doo
r. It swung open and a woman in a maid’s uniform entered, pulling a cleaning cart. She stood stock-still when she spotted them, her mouth open in astonishment.
What’s she staring at? Piper wondered. Then she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror that hung by the door. She took in the flecks of dried mud on her face and in her hair, her muddy, torn dress, and her bare feet, which were unspeakably filthy.
“Oh . . . “ She trailed off, unable to think of anything to say.
“Mud wrestling,” Prue told the woman calmly. “We’re on a mud-wrestling team back home in the States.”
“We were just, uh, practicing,” Piper put in.
“Right,” the maid said, still staring. She backed toward the door. “I’ll . . . I’ll come back later, then, shall I?”
“That would be fine,” Piper said. She hurried over and closed the door behind the maid. She glanced at Prue, and the two of them burst into a storm of giggles.
“I guess we’d better clean ourselves up before we go out looking for Niall and Phoebe,” Prue said when they had finally calmed down.
They took turns showering, then dressed as fast as they could. Within half an hour, they were hurrying down the stairs and into the hotel lobby. Then Piper spotted a familiar, forlorn figure.
“Oh, no,” she muttered. “Sir Andrew! Hide me.”
He was seated in one of the hotel’s overstuffed armchairs, pretending to read a newspaper, but she could see how his eyes were glued to the elevator doors. He was waiting for her. His scanty hair stood up around his head, as if he’d been dragging his fingers through it. Even his mustache looked rumpled.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Prue grumbled. She grabbed Piper’s wrist and dragged her out into the garden behind the hotel. “Come on, there’s got to be a back gate out of this place. There it is, over there.” She opened the gate, then paused and gave Piper a severe look. “But when we’re done with this whole Druid business, you have got to find a way to reverse that stupid love charm. Honestly, Piper, I can’t believe you did such an irresponsible thing.”