The Merlin Chronicles: Box Set (All Three Novels)

by Daniel Diehl

  “When you get about a hundred yards down the road, stop the car.”

  “Stop? Why would I want to stop?” Feeling Merlin’s eyes burning a hole through him, Jason sighed, and pulled to a halt.

  “Does this window in the roof open?”

  “Yeah, it’s a sun roof.”

  “Will it work at night...without any sun, I mean?”

  “Yes, of course. Why?” Just when Jason thought he had Merlin figured out, he found he was thoroughly confused again.

  “Open it.”

  Wordlessly, Jason reached up to the small instrument console above the windshield. When the sunroof stopped moving, Merlin pulled himself to a standing position, his head and upper torso vanishing into the darkness. Silently, he turned to face the ancient fortress where the glare from the fire outlined the fortification walls against a stark, shimmering blood-red backdrop. Judging the distance from where they were parked to the main gate, Merlin drew back his right arm like a pitcher winding up to deliver a line drive. The massive fireball soared through the air like a rocket to strike the heavy wooden gate with a thundering crash, hurling sparks and splinters of wood high over the wall.

  “That was just for distance. Now let’s see if I can put those vehicles out of commission.”

  Still wincing from the shuddering impact of the first fireball, Jason craned his head around in time to see a second fiery mass land a matter of feet in front of a van. The third and fourth ones left the remaining vehicles in flaming ruins.

  “Great work, but can we please go now?”

  “Not yet, there are still four cars parked next to the main building, but I can’t see them from here.”

  “Do you want me to pull up farther toward the hill by the main road?”

  “No, no. I’m nearly at the limit of my range. We shall just have to trust our luck.”

  In less than a minute Merlin lobbed ten more fireballs over the distant wall. As near as he could judge they had all landed somewhere near the front of the main building. Finally satisfied that he had done all he could, he returned to his seat and smiled at Jason. “I believe it’s time to take us out of here.”

  Allowing a big grin to spread across his lean face, Jason shifted into gear, turned on the headlamps and pulled back onto the lane heading toward the main road. Once there, he turned right, toward the Land Rover. They had gone no more than a quarter mile when Jason turned to his companion. “So where, exactly, are we going?”

  “I thought that the...” Merlin’s answer was cut short by a broken, chattering noise coming from somewhere behind them. It was loud enough that both he and Jason turned their heads, staring at each other.

  “What the hell was that?”

  Merlin turned around in his seat. In the distance, just turning onto the main road from the lane, he could see two sets of headlights and the broken flare of automatic weapons fire. “It seems I was not as successful as I might have been in delaying our friends’ pursuit.”

  “Oh, shit.” Jason instinctively killed the headlights to make them invisible.

  “How far do you think those weapons can shoot?”

  “They looked like Kalashnikovs to me, and they have an effective range of almost a mile. Of course, they have to see us to hit us and in the dark their aim is bound to be crap.” The words were hardly out of his mouth before another staccato burst of gunfire erupted, followed by a dull ‘thunk’ coming from the rear end of the Jeep. “Fuck. I hope that was just a lucky shot. Hang on, I’m going to take some evasive action, here.”

  The Jeep lurched back and forth as Jason ran from one shoulder to the other, trying to avoid even the most random shot. “Hold this thing steady for a moment, Jason. Maybe I can give them back a little of their own.”

  Jason hauled the careening juggernaut back toward the center of the road, straining to see the lightless road and avoid the deepest ruts. “Ok, it’s all yours.”

  Merlin climbed back through the sunroof, relying on the cloak of darkness alone to ensure his invisibility. “I may only have one chance at this. Once they see where the light is coming from they’ll be able to train their sights on us.”

  “Alright, I am going to give you three shots and then start evasive maneuvers again so don’t try to come back inside, just hang on for dear life. Got it?”

  “Agreed. I just need to wait till they fire again so I can find a target.”

  “Right.”

  The wait seemed interminable. Seconds ticked past as the Jeep roared down the darkened highway, the sound and headlights of the pursuing vehicles tightening Jason’s nerves like guitar strings. Then came a quick series of short, sharp reports that sounded like pistol shots. The three tiny sparks of muzzle flash was all the guidance Merlin needed.

  From the driver’s seat of the lead pursuit car, the only thing visible along the road were the beams of their headlamps falling on the rutted road. Somewhere up there, ahead of them, was their quarry, but its distance and location were impossible to judge. Then, out of the darkness, what appeared to be a low flying comet soared silently into the sky, before heading back to earth directly in front of them. The driver veered frantically to the left, throwing the car into a tailspin. As the flaming object struck the center of the road the driver pulled to the right in a vain effort to stop the spin. In the soft, sandy shoulder, the heavy car spun out of control, turned one hundred-eighty degrees and ground to a halt, the passenger’s door sunk deep in the sand.

  The car behind was not so lucky. Unable to decide which way the lead car was going to turn in its flight from the oncoming missile, the driver ploughed straight ahead, hoping for the best. The fireball sailed over the top of the car, landing near the swamped lead vehicle. Seconds later Merlin’s next missile found its mark. Ripping through the hood of the car, it tore the engine free from its mounts, pushing the engine and drive train into the dirt and flinging the rear end of the car high into the air before coming to rest on its top.

  “No need to run the car all over the road, Jason.”

  “You get 'em?”

  As Jason eased off on the accelerator and switched the headlamps back on, Merlin re-emerged into the cab of the big Jeep.

  “Get 'em? My good man, they are, as you say, permanently out of business.”

  For the first time in weeks, Jason threw back his head and laughed. It was a long, cathartic release of pent-up stress that was long overdue. “So, before we were so rudely interrupted, you were about to tell me where we are going.”

  “Ah, yes. Well, all things considered, it would probably be foolish to tempt fate and return the way we came. We cannot go east, or stay on this road indefinitely because either of those will take us into China where the authorities may not welcome the presence of strangers. That leaves only a course of north-north-west.”

  “Where will that take us?”

  “Eventually, we should be in Russia; before that, your guess is undoubtedly as good as mine.”

  “Then Russia it is. At least we can get home from there.” Jason eased back into his seat, preparing for the long drive ahead.

  “Yes, and with any luck, we can even beat Morgana back to England. I have a feeling that without power, transportation and, hopefully, without any form of communication, she and her surviving friends may be delayed in Mongolia for some indefinite time, and time is what I need to defeat her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Relieved and excited, Jason and Merlin were already near exhaustion before beginning their long trek across the Mongolian wastes. Every muscle in Jason’s body hurt and the wound on his temple throbbed unbearably. For all his seemingly inexhaustible energy, even Merlin was tired, cold and grumpy. Adding to their problems was the fact that everything except the clothes on their back and Merlin’s scrying glass was still in the Land Rover.

  And the Mongolian roads did nothing to improve their mood. The ruts and potholes were unavoidable and every foot of the journey was a bone-jarring agony of thumps and bumps. Simply keeping the big Jeep be
tween the ditches forced Jason to reduce their speed to a fifteen-mile-an-hour crawl. Conversation, although a constant effort in the jostling car, was a necessary catharsis to relieve the stress of the last day and a half.

  “You were right. Morgana is not only certifiably insane, she is the most hate-filled human being I’ve ever met.”

  “True. I fear that she allied herself with Satan long, long ago.

  “Ahhh, well, assuming that the devil is real – and I’m not saying I believe that…

  “I’m sure Satan could not care less whether or not you believe in him.”

  “Whatever. So let’s just say he’s real and that Morgana is actually working for him. Since we already know she is working with the dragons and - assuming the dragons are the same dragons they talk about in Revelations - does it follow that the dragons are the Devil?”

  “The dragons cannot be Satan, because there are hundreds, possibly thousands, of them. Satan is singular but possibly - and I have never considered this point before – the dragons just might be his minions.”

  “You think so?”

  “I have no way of knowing, but it certainly is a possibility. In the Gospel of Saint Luke it says "I saw Satan like lightning falling out of heaven" and in the book of Ephesians there is a reference to the Devil as the "prince of the power of air" and both of those would correspond with the dragons appearance from their hole in the sky. What did you call it, a worm hole?”

  “Yeah. A worm hole or a black hole.”

  “That’s a very unsettling thought. Very unsettling indeed.”

  “I have another one just as bad. Is it possible that the place the dragons come from is actually hell?”

  “That is a question I cannot possibly answer.”

  “But you do believe in hell?”

  “Oh, yes, certainly. Don’t you?”

  This was not a subject Jason had ever given much thought to and decided he was in no condition to start pondering the concept of the afterlife and damnation. Instead, he let the conversation die and concentrated on keeping the Jeep out of the potholes.

  By the time morning spread across the world, the odometer on the dash board indicated they had traveled all of one-hundred-and-sixty miles in the eleven hours since their escape. Twenty minutes later they entered the outskirts of a town which, according to the weather beaten sign, was named Hongor. It took no more than an exchange of glances for them to agree it was time to stop and get some much needed food and rest. The tiny village’s only accommodation was a single inn with rooms to let and at the moment, rest was the most important thing in their world.

  They took the room for the day and the following night on the assumption they could not travel across Mongolia and into Russia in the dark and neither could they manage to remain awake until nightfall. A nap now, some shopping to replace the contents of their lost luggage later and then a good night’s sleep seemed the only logical course of action. The beds were dirty and lumpy, the food was greasy and there was only one bathtub to serve the entire inn or, if the amount of traffic in and out of the bathroom was any indication, possibly it was the only tub in Hongor. By scouring through Hongor’s few shops Jason was able to replace most of their lost clothes and toiletries and even managed to put together a makeshift first aid kit. After a bath, he dressed the still oozing wound on his head and decided none of his other cuts, bruises and abrasions were either life threatening or likely to cause permanent damage. His shoulder still ached terribly.

  Later, over a bowl of lukewarm goat stew accompanied by stale bread and, to Jason’s delight, a Coca Cola, they were informed by the landlady that Hongor was only eighty miles south of Ondorhaan, the last outpost before entering the mountains separating Mongolia from Russia. Even given the atrocious condition of the roads, by the end of the next day they should be well inside Russia and could begin making plans for their return to England. After dinner, Jason took the Jeep out to get gas and fill the spare jerry can, while Merlin bartered with the landlady for enough food and drink to see them through the following day’s travel. Shortly after eight o’clock they were back in bed and sound asleep. Sometime during the night it began to rain. When they awoke the ominous sky and lowering slate-colored clouds declared this was not just a passing shower.

  Despite the rain, by noon they had slogged their way past Ondorhaan and out of the endless, flat grasslands of the Mongolian steppe. The rolling terrain had given way to hills and in the distance they could see the road climbing steadily toward a range of mountains that disappeared into the lowering clouds and rain. Thanks to the weather, the absence of passing vehicles came as no surprise, but the appearance of a line of robed men walking calmly along the side of the road seemed immensely out of place.

  Slowing for a closer look at the strange parade, Jason counted four of them, all dressed in identical dark red, ankle length gowns. Over their right shoulders were orange cloaks, flapping in the wet wind, slopping water in every direction. The men’s heads were shaved and they were lean to the point of emaciation. With the exception of one man who wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses, the four were virtually indistinguishable from one another. As Jason slowed and swerved to avoid splashing them, the men each looked up in turn, smiling and nodding. One of them even waved a friendly greeting. While Merlin stared uncomprehendingly at the drenched men, Jason thought to himself... Monks. They’re Buddhist monks. “Merlin, we have to give them a lift. They’re Buddhist monks.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yeah. I’ve seen pictures of them. We can’t just leave them out here, they’ll drown in this slop.”

  “Then by all means, a simple act of charity.”

  Jason eased ahead, pulling the car to a halt a few yards beyond the lead figure. Rolling down the window, he stuck his head into what was now a torrential downpour, and shouted against the wind. “You want a ride?”

  The first man in line stared at Jason for a moment and then turned to his companions. All the while, they stood in the downpour chatting amiably, alternately nodding and shaking their heads. Jason wished they would make up their minds. His hair was already soaked and the water was running down his back, dripping onto the seat. Finally, the monk wearing the glasses approached the car, bowed slightly and smiled, water pouring off of his ears and chin.

  “You have made a very kind and generous offer. One does not expect so much rain so close to the Gobi desert and I fear we were unprepared. Will it not be an inconvenience to have four such wet passengers in your fine car?”

  “Of course not.” To himself he thought, It’s not ours anyway, we stole it. “Just get in before you float away.”

  The man smiled and chuckled, turning back to his companions. One wave of his arm and the others made a mad dash for the Jeep. Two, including the spokesman, trundled into the back seat while the other two climbed through the tail gate into the rear compartment where they sat cross legged in a rapidly spreading pool of water. After wringing the water out of his ponytail, Jason rolled up the window and turned to greet their companions. “You’re Buddhist monks, aren’t you?”

  The man in the glasses bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Yes. I am Lu Shi and these are my brothers Ton Lo, Son Chu and Lin Piao. We are returning to our monastery which is less than one hundred miles north of here.”

  “Less than a hundred miles? How far have you guys come?”

  “We are returning to our home from a holy pilgrimage to Tibet.”

  “You don’t mean to tell me you walked all that way?”

  “Of course,” Lu Shi grinned, “The rigors of the journey are a part of the spiritual nature of a pilgrimage.”

  “But you did accept the ride.”

  The monk looked simultaneously abashed and amused when he answered. “The trials of the road are a part of the journey; drowning is not, however, a necessary stepping stone along the path to enlightenment.”

  “How long have you guys been gone?”

  The dripping monk counted his fingers before answe
ring. “I believe it has been fifteen months.”

  Turning to Merlin, Jason muttered “And I thought we’d been on the road a long time.” With that, he shook his head and pulled the car back toward the center of the road.

  “It is very kind of you to offer us this courtesy. May I enquire where it is that your own journey is taking you?” It seemed obvious that Lu Shi did the talking for his group; whether that was by choice, mutual assent or a condition of his rank, Jason could not guess.

  “We’re heading toward the Russian border.” Merlin spoke, having decided this was his best, and possibly only, opportunity to learn about a belief system with which he was only vaguely familiar. The only other oriental he had ever mentioned religion to had been Gumolin and that had hardly qualified as a theological discourse.

  “Ahh. If you are going to Russia on this road it will take you less than twenty miles from our monastery.”

  Merlin looked at Jason who nodded his assent. “It seems we’re going your way. We will gladly take you home.”

  “You are most generous. May we be so bold as to enquire the identities of our rescuers?”

  “My name is Merlin and this is my friend, Jason Carpenter.”

  “And what brings westerners to Mongolia? It is hardly a spot for tourists to make a holiday.”

  “Like you, we’re on a sort of pilgrimage - a journey to confront a great evil that has tested our faith.”

  Lu Shi leaned forward discretely, staring over the back of the seat at Merlin’s hair, beard and robes before speaking. “Are you a Christian monk or, perhaps, a priest?”

  “I was once a priest, but that was a very long time ago.” Here Merlin paused before abruptly changing the subject. “But please, tell my friend Jason and I about your travels.”

  “Our order, known as the Gelugpa, is one of many forms of Buddhism with its spiritual home in Tibet. It is our duty to make an occasional pilgrimage to one of the holy places of our faith and nearly two years ago we elected to make a pilgrimage to Lasa, the capital of Tibet, and the home of our order. Our own ancestral home was built in your year 637. Since then there have been times of ease and times of distress. When the Chinese over-ran Tibet in 1951 they destroyed many monasteries, and those monks whom they did not murder they drove into exile. Many escaped to India, some to Nepal, but our house moved to Mongolia. Of course, I do not remember this, but some of the older members of our community do.”