The Merlin Chronicles: Box Set (All Three Novels)

by Daniel Diehl

  “Where did your little friend get to, Merlin; run away to hide from the bad old witch?” Morgana rattled on, gloating with the assurance that in an instant Merlin’s image, too, would disappear. Any second now the guards would seize him, knock him unconscious and haul him away to be held in chains until she decided on the most decorative means of reintroducing this troublesome man to the one dragon he had inadvertently trapped in this world.

  Merlin did not hear Morgana’s last words; it demanded all his concentration to continue projecting his image into her office while looking around the tunnel trying to locate Jason. As his field of vision returned to his physical location, he could see a shape retreating down the corridor along which he and Jason had come only minutes earlier. Across the figure’s shoulder a long, limp body dangled awkwardly. From ahead and behind came the sounds of running feet, the gleam of flashlights and the sound of shouting voices.

  When a pair of guards came charging around the corner formed by the junction of two tunnels, they failed to notice a slight blurring in the pattern of the stone wall ahead of them. In the wavering light it would have been nearly impossible to notice the spot where the surface of the stone seemed twisted, the mortar joints between the blocks slightly out of alignment. Had their ears been any sharper than their eyes, they might even have heard a small, deep chuckle emanating from the wall seconds after they rushed past.

  Down an adjoining passageway, a Triad soldier headed toward a bend in the tunnel. In his left hand he carried a battery powered flood light and in the other a wicked looking knife. As he rounded the bend, only feet ahead of him he could see the back of a figure with long, white hair flowing across a heavy fur coat. The old man seemed to be peering intently around the corner where two tunnels intersected, oblivious to everything behind him. Without hesitation, the guard charged forward, wrapping the arm carrying the torch around the figure’s waist, diving toward the ground. As guard and victim tumbled forward, he plunged the knife deep into the back of the fur coat just below his victim’s bottom rib. It wasn’t until he hit the ground that the guard realized he had tackled an armful of empty air and the blade of his knife had sliced neatly into his left forearm between the radius and the ulna. Blood from the severed artery poured out in pulsating fountains, covering the guard’s face and chest. Pulling out the blade only made the blood come faster and long before his companions reached the spot where he lay, he was dead.

  At a distant point in the warren of passageways, three heavily armed men spotted one of their comrades in the distance, motioning them forward, cautioning them to be silent. The point man motioned toward his Kalashnikov, indicating they should be ready to fire as soon as they joined him. Turning away from them, he slipped his head cautiously around a corner. The three guards had no way of knowing that not far along the adjoining tunnel, four of their compatriots were receiving exactly the same signals from another man looking around the opposite side of the same corner. Once the shooting began, it no longer mattered who fired first; the tunnel was ablaze with muzzle flash and flying lead. Blinded by the brilliant, strobe effect of seven automatic weapons all firing simultaneously, the men unhesitatingly emptied their ammunition clips at their unseen adversaries. In seconds, five Triads lay dead and two more were writhing on the ground.

  Scenes of confusion, false leads, phantom figures, and death inflicted on men who should have been fighting on the same side were repeated all through the tunnels for more than half an hour. Above, in the main building, Chen continued to send more and more soldiers into the killing ground of the tunnels with orders to capture the old man at all costs. Guards and soldiers were pulled from nearly every post in the compound. The main building, the opium processing plant, the main gate and the wall walks were reduced to skeleton crews as the tunnels filled with armed men. There would be no excuses and no forgiveness for anyone who failed to carry out the Missus’ orders. In her office, Morgana paced back and forth, working herself into a fury. What neither Chen nor Morgana thought to do was send a squad to search outside the compound walls. If they had, one of the men might have been quick enough to see movement at ground level some forty feet beyond the eastern wall. There, in the darkness, a solitary figure in a fur coat crawled on its belly out of a trap door half obliterated by the sand.

  Merlin crawled behind a low rise and rested against the rough ground. Exhausted and frustrated he leaned forward, elbows on knees, cradling his forehead in his hands. He had no idea what time it was, but it was obviously late and there were still many hours of cold night before the morning brought either light or warmth to the frozen land. Turning around so he could take one last look over the hill behind him, Merlin decided it was finally safe to relax for the night.

  From the hillside he pulled bracken and grass so he could bury his back into the side of the hill and absorb whatever warmth lingered in the dry, sandy soil. Gathering the largest stones he could find, he stacked them into a crude pyramid. He extended his arms, pointing long, thin fingers toward the pile of rocks. A blue-white stream of energy danced from the ends of his fingers, reaching toward the small pyramid. It took nearly five minutes of intense concentration to get the stones hot enough to remain warm until morning.

  Settling back to review what had gone wrong; Merlin knew it was his fault that Jason had been captured. He should have been more careful, planned the attack better. It had been far too many years since he had devised any complex plans. He had allowed his talents to become dull and his pride, and the urgency of preventing Morgana from contacting the Dragon Lords, had blinded him to that very obvious fact. As much as he hated to admit it, the great Merlin had lost his edge. At this point, all he knew for certain was that he had to free Jason and that Morgana did not have a means of contacting the dragons in Mongolia. If she had, she would have contacted them before he arrived and she would have been far less intent on capturing, or killing, even as bothersome an enemy as Merlin. Now that he knew he still presented a threat to her monstrous plans, he also realized that it was highly unlikely she would harm Jason. He was too valuable as a piece of bait to destroy him - at least not yet.

  Reflecting on all these things, Merlin stared into the cloudless, star-filled night, trying to clear his mind and devise a plan to rescue Jason. This time there could be no slip-ups. He pushed his back deeper into the soft mound of soil behind him, tucked his chin deep into the collar of his bearskin coat and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A beam of sickly light fell through a small window set high in the stone wall. It crept along the floor, chasing a shiny black cockroach ahead of it. Jason normally hated cockroaches, but he envied this one as it scurried ahead of the pursuing rectangle of light. At least the nasty little thing could run away and that was more than he could do.

  Several times he tried to raise his head, but any effort greater than moving his eyes brought waves of nausea and a searing pain in his right temple. Most of the time he spent curled up in a fetal position shivering against the cold and shock. Even breathing hurt. Once he managed to touch the side of his throbbing head and his fingers came away caked with dried blood. As near as he could figure, he must have slammed his forehead against the wall when he tried to avoid the guard. Not that it had done much good. His left shoulder, where the butt of the soldier’s gun had connected with his body; it hurt nearly as much as his head. Several times he spit on the floor to clear the bitter, coppery taste from his mouth but only succeeded in coughing out blood clots. He had no idea how he cut his mouth.

  Nearly unable to move, Jason started his day by taking a bleary survey of his surroundings. He guessed the cell must be about eight by ten feet. There was a wooden door studded with heavy nails on the wall near his feet. At about head height in the door was a small shuttered opening, but the shutter was closed. Along one wall stood the hard bunk on which he lay and high on the adjoining wall was the tiny window. On the floor stood two buckets. The handle of a ladle protruded above the rim of one pail, an ill-fitting lid
covered the other. The first was apparently drinking water and the other was probably his toilet. Dejectedly, he hoped the guards had not gotten the two confused when they cleaned the cell after the last prisoner. Had they even bothered to clean the cell? Had the last prisoner left or just been taken out and shot? After the cockroach vanished there was nothing to occupy his mind so Jason closed his eyes, trying to blot out the pain and the fear.

  He had no idea how long he slept, but when he awoke he felt strong enough to sit up. After resting in an upright position with his eyes closed and breathing deeply, the nausea passed sufficiently for him to step to the bucket of frigid water, rinse his mouth and wash the caked blood from the side of his head. The welt on his temple throbbed and he could feel a cut running nearly from his hairline to just beneath the end of his eyebrow. Wryly, he decided he wouldn’t bother going to the doctor to see if it needed stitches. The effort of cleaning himself was exhausting and stepping back to the bunk left his knees rubbery. Jason had never been beaten before and tried to think how he had gotten himself into this mess. Four months ago his biggest worries were paying his rent and wondering how the sphere got smashed. That damn sphere. He sighed and leaned back against the hard wall.

  Jason’s thoughts moved like a river of mud, sluggish, occasionally oozing forward without warning, tumbling and collapsing. He felt insubstantial and disconnected - like he was made of some squishy substance that was being torn apart and randomly rearranged. As he drifted deeper into a numbing reverie, the only point his mind could focus on was Beverley. He missed her terribly and wondered if he would ever see her again. He seriously doubted it. Maybe it was all just some terrible dream and sooner or later he would wake up. No. You couldn’t feel pain in a dream and right now Jason felt more pain than he ever had in his life. Eventually, he drifted into a fitful sleep. Later, he was awakened by the sound of the tiny port in the door being unlatched and caught a fleeting glimpse of narrow eyes scanning the cell. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, the guard closed the shutter and rattled a key in the lock. When the door swung open, Jason managed to sit up as Morgana le Fay stepped through the door.

  Calm and almost ethereally beautiful, le Fay stared at him wordlessly for a minute with startling violet eyes as cold and hard as some metal alloy. It was a long moment before she finally spoke. “Well, well, well, what have we here? A surprise visitor” she said answering her own question, “...and if it isn’t pretty little Jason Carpenter. Did you come all the way to Mongolia to visit me in my loneliness, Jason?

  “What do you want with me?” The words sounded stupid even before they left his mouth.

  “Jason, I didn’t want you at all - even if you did manage to sabotage my entire computer system. That was your idea, wasn’t it? It certainly wasn’t Merlin’s.” Jason refused to answer or look at her, but his avoidance spoke volumes. “That’s what I thought. Not to worry, it was a minor setback and you are a very small player in a very large game. But what I really want is that meddling friend of yours. Still, it only seems right that you dropped in for a little visit, doesn’t it? I visited you in your hotel and now you come to see me.”

  “So you didn’t get him yet, did you?” Jason’s mind began to race, but he tried desperately to keep his feelings hidden.

  Morgana snapped her head around to stare at him. “What? Oh, Merlin. Not yet, but I will. He hasn’t gone far. And he won’t as long as I keep you here as my guest.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “You have my guarantee that I won’t let anything happen to you...at least not until I’ve taken care of that wretched old man. Then, who knows?” Morgana sat down on the edge of the bunk next to Jason and stared at him, her eyes hot and piercing. When she continued, her voice had taken on the condescending tone an angry teacher might use on a particularly dull child. “If this were a fairy tale this is the place where the wicked queen would offer the handsome young prince the choice between being her consort and dying some horrible death. But sadly, Jason, this is no fantasy. This is reality and once Merlin is out of my hair I think I’ll just consider you like a delectable bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken...a finger licking good snack. And when I’m finished there won’t be anything left to throw away but the skin and bones.”

  Jason thought her smile looked altogether too much like a piranha that had just seen a cow fall into the water. “If you just came in here to frighten me, you could have saved yourself the effort. I was scared before you got here.”

  “Good.” Her tone was now completely flat, the cruel playfulness gone. “Maybe once I have Merlin I’ll let one of you watch while I kill the other one. Which one of you do you think should have that honor? Who would most acutely feel the pain of watching their friend die?” Jason stared at her in silent contempt. “No thoughts? Well, I think I’ll let him watch. What I have in mind for you will embarrass him terribly. He’s such an old prude. Later I’ll make him suffer in ways you could never even begin to conceive of. I’ve had a long time to think about it, you know. But that’s for later, for now I have to be satisfied with the fact that he really does care about you. He does, you know. He must have seen you as his last, best hope. Pity.”

  “Yeah, a real shame.” Jason tried to keep his tone level but he was furious. He knew Morgana could see the anger his eyes, but he no longer cared. “What did he do to make you hate him so much? Drop a house on your sister and steal the ruby slippers?”

  “Don’t you dare get pissy with me, little boy. You have no idea how much trouble that old bastard has caused me over the centuries. I was the rightful heir to my father’s throne, not that insipid Arthur. I have more balls than Arthur ever dreamed of having. He couldn’t even satisfy his stupid wife, let alone rule a kingdom. I was the warrior. I was the one the Dragon Lords chose, not him. The dragons will cleanse this traitorous planet with fire and I’ll be the one to create a new and better world from the ashes. I’ve waited for more years than you can even imagine exist and now, by God, I will not have a boy and some moldy, second-rate court magician snatch it all away from me. Do you UNDERSTAND?” Her voice had risen to an hysterical pitch and Jason had no doubt that she was every bit as insane and venomous as Merlin had warned.

  Eventually, with an obvious effort, Morgana composed herself and smiled beatifically at Jason. Rising from the bed, she began walking leisurely around the tiny cell. “Of course, if you should decide to be of service to me, maybe I will eventually let you go.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Don’t be so quick to snub my generosity. Like I said, it isn’t you I want. I want Merlin.”

  “A minute ago you didn’t seem to have any doubt you would get him.”

  “I don’t. But I’m bored with this stupid game. Now...if you help me catch him, maybe I’ll let you go back to that pretty little red-head of yours and leave you both in peace.”

  “You leave Beverley out of this, damn you.” His pain momentarily forgotten, Jason rose from the cot and took an angry step toward his captor.

  “Temper, temper. You are in absolutely no position to threaten. Now sit down and be a good boy.” Jason backed off a step but remained on his feet. “Let me rephrase that. If you don’t cooperate, I will add your girlfriend’s name to the same list as yours and Merlin’s.” She turned toward the door and rapped gently for the guard to open up but before she stepped out of the cell, she offered a parting shot. “You can think it over till morning. Of course, if I take him by then, all bets are off.” A self-satisfied smile played across her shapely lips as she stepped into the space beyond the cell, leaving Jason alone with his pain and misery.

  Later, a guard brought Jason a tray of vile looking slop but he could not even force himself to look at it. He was so anxious and confused he felt like his skin was crawling. What he needed was a plan. Something. Anything. Obviously betraying Merlin was out of the question; even if he did, there was no way Morgana would let him go.

  The only hard information his confused mind c
ould sort out from the conversation with Morgana was that Merlin was still on the loose and that really had her worried. And if Morgana was still worried about Merlin that must mean she was still unable to open the portal for the Dragon Lords. Jason had no idea what to do, but the one thing he did know was that his only hope of escape lay in the fact that Merlin had not yet been taken prisoner.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Merlin awoke to find a thick crust of frost on his beard and hair. Even buried deep inside his heavy fur coat he was shivering uncomfortably. Flexing his arms, the elbow and shoulder joints cracked like dry twigs, making him wince as much from the sound as the pain. I’m too old for this. Entirely too old. Pacing up and down to get his blood circulating, he extended his hands to reheat the stone pyramid while finalizing his plans for rescuing Jason. By concentrating on Jason’s unique physical vibrations Merlin determined he was being held somewhere in the rear of the main building. The scrying glass allowed him to see enough of Jason’s cell to know it had only one small window set high in the wall. Even these bits of information should make it relatively easy to locate Jason when the time came.

  To determine how the stronghold was laid out and how many vehicles Morgana’s thugs had at their disposal, Merlin began a cautious circuit of the compound. Staying low and far enough away to make sure no one on the wall walk could see him, he worked his way around the enclosure, eventually coming to the low hill where he and Jason began their reconnaissance the previous evening. Somewhere behind him was the Land Rover and he considered the odds against their making it to the car on foot. The distance was simply too great; a vehicle would have to be requisitioned from the fort.