The Merlin Chronicles: Box Set (All Three Novels)

by Daniel Diehl

  Pleased with the results of the conversation, Merlin told Jason “We have a room and in a few minutes we will have dinner.”

  Before answering, Jason swung his head to take in the dark, low room. “Do we know what we’re eating?”

  “I have no idea, but these people all look healthy enough, so it probably won’t hurt us.”

  “Oh, good. Thank you. That’s very reassuring.”

  A few minutes later, the landlord returned with two bowls of steaming goat stew, a lump of goat cheese and a loaf of coarse, dark bread. There were also two glasses of heavy ale. Jason was amazed to find the food not only edible, but actually rich, spicy and tasty. While he attacked the food, Merlin chatted with their host.

  “When we’re done here, the landlord will show us to our room. And he has been kind enough to offer us breakfast in the morning.”

  “But we still don’t know where we’re going.”

  “No. But hopefully, by morning, I will have found out where Morgana is headed and we can at least ask for directions.”

  An hour later, exhausted and jet lagged, Jason had fallen asleep in one of the two, tiny narrow beds. On the edge of the other bed, Merlin sat gazing into the broken slab of mirror. For more than two hours he stared at the tiny figure, watching for any clue as to where she might be. Shortly after one a.m., he wrapped the glass in a piece of soft cloth, tucked it into his travel bag and lay back with a long, satisfied sigh.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jason awoke to the sound of wind rattling the tiny room’s single window. Rousing himself, he saw that Merlin’s bed was already empty and his travel bag was packed and on the bed, waiting to be loaded into the Land Rover. Jason brushed his teeth and washed in the basin of ice-cold water on the nightstand, dressed and hurried down stairs where Merlin was leaning across the bar counter, chatting with the landlord. When they heard his footfall on the stairs, both men strolled over to meet him. Merlin had a faint smile on his face and the landlord bowed deeply toward Jason, wiping his hands on his apron. “I hope the gentleman slept well and that my poor inn did not offend him in any way.”

  “It was wonderful. Thank you,” Jason, said, extending his elbows to the side and rearing backward to pull the kinks out of his back.

  Waving his hands in the air their host motioned toward the far end of the room. “I have already laid out bread, cheese and butter. In a moment, I will bring you tea.” After a brief pause, he looked at Jason, adding “Would you also like some yak eggs for your breakfast?”

  “Sure. That would be gr... Wait a minute. Yaks are like cows, they don’t lay eggs.”

  Breaking into uproarious laughter, the innkeeper replied “It is a little joke we make with foreigners; most outsiders have no idea what a yak is. But you are obviously too quick for Subadie. Please...” Again he motioned towards the table. “...I will bring your tea.”

  As Subadie wandered toward the kitchen, shaking his head, chuckling at his own joke, Jason and Merlin moved to the table where Merlin cut a thick slice of coarse bread before taking a seat. After Jason took a chair, Merlin did the same and began spreading butter over the bread.

  “You never mentioned that, what’s-his-name, Subadie, could speak English.”

  “He can’t. Only Mongolian and a smattering of Chinese.” Catching Jason’s confused glance, he continued “Listen to him when he comes back.”

  By the time Subadie returned with a large tray containing a pot of tea and two cups without handles, Jason had already eaten several chunks of goat cheese and was spreading butter on a slice of bread. “Please be aware that this is yak butter and it may be stronger than what you are familiar with.”

  Biting into the bread, Jason made a wry face and turned his eyes up toward the landlord. “Wow. Are you sure this stuff hasn’t gone rancid?”

  “No, no.” Subadie laughed and shook his head. “It is quite fresh; it just has a most pungent flavor. Should you need me, I will be in the kitchen. Now, please enjoy.”

  Chewing the bread with his lips peeled back from his teeth to avoid contact with the greasy butter; Jason nodded toward the retreating figure and cast a resigned glance at Merlin. “Ok, you were right. He wasn’t speaking English. So what language was that and how could I understand him?”

  “It was Mongolian and you could understand it because I taught it to you while you were asleep.”

  “You got into my head again? Damn it, you know I hate it when you do that.” Jason frowned around the bread.

  “But you see, I explained that the inter-locking of minds is not invasive if carried out properly. I gave you knowledge of an entire language and you never even knew it. You can’t read nor write Mongolian, of course, but you can understand and speak it with near fluency.” Unconvinced, and slightly insulted at Merlin’s repeated invasion of his mental privacy, Jason continued to frown. “Besides,” Merlin rambled on, pretending not to notice Jason’s displeasure, “in our current situation it may well save our lives.”

  “Alright, alright,” Jason shrugged, “Agreed. I just wish you would tell me when you’re going to start rummaging around in my head.”

  “I was just making a point.”

  Realizing that there was no way he was going to get the last word in this conversation, Jason dropped the subject, cut himself another slice of bread and took several more chunks of cheese, but avoided the heady butter. Finally, he decided to change the subject. “So, did you find out where she went?”

  Merlin took a sip of tea and leaned forward, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper, “Indeed I did. I don’t know the geographic location but I got a good look at the place from her car window. It looks like an old fortress but most of it has long since crumbled to ruins. The entire complex is surrounded by high stone and mud-brick walls. It must have been imposing in its day and looks like it could still put up a pretty good defense.”

  “Could you tell if she keeps it defended? I mean, did you see any thugs running around with guns?”

  “It was late when she got there and I only saw a few guards come out to open the gate. But there were several trucks and vans parked outside, so we can assume she has confederates and hirelings on site.”

  “That doesn’t help us any, you know.”

  Merlin only shrugged and continued to eat, apparently unconcerned with the size of Morgana’s mercenary army. When breakfast was over, Merlin explained to their host that they needed directions.

  “I have lived in Saynshand all of my life and know the area very well. What is the name of the place you wish to find?”

  Merlin confessed that he didn’t know the name or location of the place, but he offered to describe it. Subadie nodded, explaining that with so few places of note on the Chinese-Mongolian border a description should be enough for him to guide them. As Merlin launched into a description of Morgana’s fortress compound, each additional detail made Subadie’s eyes grow larger.

  “You must not go there.” He finally cut-in. “It is a very bad place. Very bad indeed.”

  “Do you mean there are bad people there? Thieves or robbers or...” Here, Jason glanced at Merlin before continuing “gangsters?”

  “Gangsters. Yes. Triads. They are very dangerous men. They kill for pleasure. But that is not what Subadie means. At least, not only that.” The innkeeper was so convulsed with fear that he was almost unable to continue.

  Merlin picked up the line of questioning that Jason had begun. “If you did not mean the Triads, what did you mean?”

  “You will laugh at Subadie. You will say Mongols are backward. That we are superstitious fools.”

  Merlin laid a gentle hand on the man’s shaking arm. “Subadie, I promise I won’t laugh at you. Please, tell me what you meant when you said it was a bad place.”

  Diverting his gaze from Merlin’s intense blue eyes, the innkeeper said in a whisper “It is a place of evil. Ancient evil. Everyone avoids it, even the nomadic tribesmen and they are fearless warriors.” With a pleading glance into Merlin’s face,
he added “Please gentlemen, if you insist, I will give you directions, but I beg you, do not go there if you value your safety.”

  “We’ll be all right, Subadie. But we do need to know how to get to the fortress.”

  Shaking his head like he was passing a death sentence, Subadie told them to follow the main road eastward out of town, toward the Chinese border. Only a few yards before the border sign they would see an unmarked dirt road leading left, toward the north. They were to take this road and in about one hundred and fifty miles they would reach their destination. With that, he scurried off to the safety of his kitchen, leaving Jason and Merlin to stare knowingly at each other.

  “It would seem, my boy, that we have located Morgana’s lair. Evidently she has been using it long enough to have gained something of a reputation in these parts.”

  “It certainly seems like everybody knows the place.”

  “Come, come. Faint heart ne’er won fair maid, you know.”

  “I seriously doubt there are any fair maids waiting for us in that place, Merlin.”

  “True, but there is one waiting for you back in York and as long as Morgana is out there she, too, is in danger. Now you get our bags while I pay the tremulous Mr. Subadie.”

  Climbing into the Land Rover next to Jason, Merlin said with a grunt, “Just to make sure of our facts, let’s stop at the local railway station and see if the station master noticed a European woman get off the train yesterday. Who knows, maybe he can even provide us with additional information.”

  “Good thinking. The more information we have the more chance we have of keeping our heads fastened to our shoulders.”

  The station master, an ex-army officer who prided himself on both his efficiency and powers of observation, told them that a dark haired woman in her mid-to-late thirties had gotten off the three-fifteen train the day before. Pulling himself into his best soldierly stance, he proudly offered them a more than fair description of her purple suit and red coat, confirming what Merlin and Jason already knew; Morgana le Fay had passed through Saynshand only hours prior to their arrival. The station master also told them there had been a car waiting for the woman at the station, but confessed he had no idea how a rental car found its way to Saynshand.

  Back in the Land Rover, Jason and Merlin headed toward the Chinese border forty-five miles away. Jason had assumed that even in four-wheel drive they would make the border in less than an hour, but within twenty miles the road deteriorated to little more than a vague track across a desolate landscape. With only the deserts of Arizona and New Mexico for comparison, Jason realized that what passed as desert in the US could not hold a candle to the Gobi. Unlike the Sonoran desert of the US, the Gobi was not a desert of sand but of rocks. Everywhere there were rocks. Rocks of every size lay scattered all the way to the horizon making it look as though the land was covered with hard blisters. The land appeared as though the very life had been sucked out of it, and the December sky was as cold, hard and yellow as the earth. Except for the mind-numbing cold it would have been impossible to tell what season it was. The only counterpoint to the bleakness of the land was the constant wind; wind that for eons had been turning big rocks into little rocks, wearing the little rocks into sand. It swirled and buffeted the car constantly, playing with it, worrying it, shaking it like a dog worrying a rag.

  By the time they located the turnoff and the sign warning them they were about to enter the People’s Republic of China, the wind was stirring up dust devils all along the road. Like dolphins playing near a passing ship, the whirlwinds seemed attracted to the Land Rover, buffeting it spitefully, whipping the car and obscuring their vision, only to pass aside and scurry into the distance just before they lost sight of the road. Fifteen minutes later the wind was still picking up speed and intensity. Sand, pebbles and small stones tore at the sides and windows of the car, pushing it first one way and then the other. Vision was reduced to only a few yards and even at ten miles an hour Jason was in a constant battle to control the car. For more than an hour, the swirling, shifting wind showed no sign of letting up as Jason strained to keep the car from slipping into the soft shoulder.

  As the wind whipped with renewed fury, an image appeared in the swirling sand, only a few feet in front of the car. Dressed in white trousers and tunic, cinched at the waist with a black belt, the figure’s face was nearly obscured by a gigantic hat woven of rush or wicker, making it look like the man was wearing a huge lampshade on his head. Peeking out from beneath the hat Jason caught a fleeting glimpse of the bottom half of a withered, skeletally thin face, its mouth drawn back in either a death’s head grin, or a grimace of pure terror.

  “Jesus Christ.” Terrified of plowing into the idiot in front of him, Jason twisted the steering wheel violently to the left - waiting for the inevitable thud of impact. Struggling against the wind, the Land Rover responded like a wallowing sow, lurching awkwardly before sinking gently into the sandy berm. As the wind howled and tore at the desert floor and car alike, the Land Rover sank deeper and deeper into the shifting sand until only one side of the vehicle remained exposed to the sky. With a grinding gurgle the engine died, leaving Merlin and Jason suspended in their seat belts shaking and sweating.

  “Damn. Damn, damn, damn.” Jason pounded on the steering wheel in frustration, trembling from the adrenalin rush.

  “Are you alright?”

  Jason shook his head to clear away the confusion and fear. “I think I’m ok. We have to get out of here. You loosen your seat belt first. I’ll catch you and then you can crawl in the back.”

  Obeying silently, Merlin braced himself as best he could and unsnapped the clasp, landing with a heavy thud against Jason’s right side. Then, clumsily, he climbed between the seats into the large compartment in the rear and eased himself onto the side window of the listing car – which was now where the floor should be. A minute later, Jason had freed himself and was sitting by his side. Above them, the wind continued to rage and tear at the nearly buried car, its passenger-side windows acting as skylights onto the raging storm.

  “What the hell do we do now?” Jason knew it was a rhetorical question but he needed to say something; as though the sound of his voice would offer some reassurance that they had survived the ordeal.

  “There is not much we can do but wait.”

  “Where in the hell did that old man come from?”

  “Very strange, that. One second nothing, and then he was just there, staring through the windshield.” Merlin seemed genuinely puzzled and Jason stared at him for a second before answering.

  “Something on your mind that you’re not telling me?”

  “No, no. It was just a very odd experience.”

  “Odd. ODD? We’re almost killed and all you can say is ‘it was odd’?”

  After waiting several minutes for the response that never came, Jason began chatting, half to himself, to keep from breaking into a cold sweat or going into shock. “Look, Merlin, you stay here. It sounds like the storm might be calming down a little. I’m going to try to go out and have a look around. I have to see if that old man is out there. I’m afraid I might have hit him.”

  Looking toward the window above his head, Merlin muttered “Yes, you do that. But be careful. We don’t want the entire Gobi desert pouring in on us.”

  Jason smiled a grim little smile and struggled over the seats to the front of the car. Placing his head near the window of the passenger door, he listened. The only thing he could hear was a soft sloughing of the wind. Gently, slowly, he gave the door handle a twist and pushed upward. A shovel-full of sand poured down on his head and then...nothing. One heave and the door swung upward, coming to rest at a forty-five degree angle. Jason waited for a moment and then pushed his head into the open air. No wind. The storm had disappeared.

  “How does it look?” Merlin’s voice came from behind and below him.

  “You won’t believe this, but the storm has completely passed. I’m going out. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
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  Hoisting himself to a sitting position on the side of the beached vehicle, he slid down into the soft gravel. After checking to make sure his movement would not disturb the car, Jason trudged across the desert, searching for any sign of the old man. Finally, freezing cold and shaking, he made his way back to the car and climbed inside.

  “No sign of the old man. Maybe he got buried in the sand.”

  “Possibly you never hit him.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t know how I could have missed him. I didn’t feel anything, but with all the stones and wind slamming against the car I’m not sure I would have felt it. I don’t know. Maybe we should try to get out of here.”

  “We can’t risk going out now. We should remain here till morning. It’s already late afternoon and the sun is going down. If we try to go out now, we will only get lost in the dark and probably freeze to death.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just not thinking very clear right now.”

  Merlin patted him gently on the arm. “What we need to do is concentrate on staying warm. It is going to get very, very cold.”

  “I can’t start the engine, it’s full of sand. Even if it started, the tail pipe is blocked.” Jason banged his fist against the floor of the car in frustration. “Fuck. What now?” He tried to remember what little he knew of survival techniques. “Ok, listen. The fact that the car is buried will help us a lot. The sand should act like insulation. The first thing we can do is put on all the extra clothes we have. Every layer will help preserve body heat.”

  “Yes. A very good thought.”

  Sunset in the desert, especially in winter, is not the quiet fading of the day it is in other places. When the sun dies, it looks like a dirty smudge on the horizon reaching out to obliterate the land. Only minutes after the light disappears, the heat follows it, swallowed up in the great vacuum of the cloudless sky; the stars and moon as cold and hard as polished silver. The horizon offers no comforting, pink glow to reassure you that somewhere, out there, there are human beings and civilization. As the night drained the last heat from the air, Jason and Merlin huddled back-to-back in the cramped space of the Land Rover.