The Merlin Chronicles: Box Set (All Three Novels)

by Daniel Diehl

  With an air of child-like innocence, Merlin answered defensively. “I wasn't the only one. I’ve been watching that machine on the wall of the lobby and one person after another was getting money from it, so I got some for us.”

  “God, Merlin. That was a cash machine. You’re supposed to have a card and a PIN number and it takes money out of your bank account. You don't have a bank account and mine’s almost empty.” Jason ran a dirty hand over his forehead. “How much did you get?”

  Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Merlin pulled out a small mountain of ten and twenty pound notes and laid them carefully in the center of the table.

  “I don't know. I paid for the rooms and this is what was left. I would have gotten more, but there wasn't any more in the machine.”

  “Oh, Lord. You know, you really are a piece of work.”

  Furrowing his brow in confusion, Merlin mumbled “Thank you…I think.”

  Jason shook his head but Beverley only covered her mouth and giggled softly. “Here, Bev,” Jason said, snatching the wad of bank notes from the tablecloth, “put this stuff in your purse. We don't need everybody in the place witnessing our bank robbery techniques.”

  While Beverley made a neat pile of the money and tucked it carefully into her hand-bag, Merlin broached a new subject.

  “I know you came down from York to see Jason and give us a ride back home, and I’m sure we both appreciate your efforts on our behalf...” It was obvious he was going somewhere with this, and Jason and Beverley waited to see where it might be. They only had to wait until Merlin held up his empty wine glass and signaled to a waiter before picking up the thread of his tale. “Since you have your car here, I was wondering if you would mind if we took a little side trip on the way back north...a detour, if you will.”

  “You mean I finally get to go on one of your little adventures with you?” Beverley's tone was half-mocking, but she was obviously thrilled to be included and still more than a little frustrated that she had been excluded from the Mongolian trip.

  “Yes. If you don’t mind, and it’s not too far out of the way. There’s someone we need to talk to, an old friend of mine. She might help us answer the riddle of the Gnostic gospel.”

  “No offence, but I didn't know you had any old friends.” Jason's face was screwed up in doubt and confusion. “I mean, with the exception of Morgana, I thought everyone you knew is long dead.”

  “All the people, yes, but not everyone.” Still delighted with his ability to mystify his young friends, Merlin was obviously enjoying this new game.

  “Ok. I give up. Who is this friend who is not a person and where do they live?”

  “She lives in Wales. I am a Welshman, you know. That's where I’m from.”

  “I know, you told me. What’s now Carmarthen, if I remember right.” Jason knew he was right, he even remembered that the original name of Carmarthen in Old Gaelic, had been Caer Myrddin, and it meant Merlin's fortress.

  “Very good, Jason. You have been paying attention.” Now that he had their rapt attention, Merlin leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. “My friend is someone with whom I was once very close, her name is Vivian...”

  “Wait. You said that name the first night in my apartment when you were telling me about Arthur and Morgana. But I can’t remember.” Jason screwed up his face searching vainly for the answer.

  “You know her from the stories about Arthur where she is referred to as the Lady of the Lake.” As Beverley stared at him in open-mouthed amazement, Merlin rose from his seat. “But there’ll be plenty of time for explanations tomorrow on the drive to Wales.” Turning to Beverley he continued. “How long will it take us to get from here to north Wales?”

  “I don’t know, it’s two hundred miles at least, so somewhere between four and five hours. Maybe a bit more if we have a lot of traffic.”

  “Would you mind? It could be important and might well help us unravel the riddle and provide the key to closing the dragon gate permanently.”

  Her eyes lighting up at the prospect of meeting the legendary Lady of the Lake, Beverly nodded enthusiastically. “I’d love to, if you two aren’t too knackered for an extra day on the road.”

  Jason just shook his head, wiped a hand across his eyes and shrugged wearily. “At this point it’s just another day.”

  “Well, then, I wish you two young people a very good night and I will see you at breakfast at eight o'clock in the morning.” With that, he reached into his pouch, produced a room key, laid it on the table, tossed back his half-finished drink and walked silently toward the lobby and the elevators.

  “What on earth are we supposed to make of that?” Beverley was talking to Jason, but her eyes were riveted on Merlin’s retreating figure as it glided silently across the marble floor of the hotel lobby, with great dignity, in a filthy grey gown and tattered bear skin coat.

  “I have no idea, but if I’ve learned anything from that old man, it’s never to underestimate him. He knows things you can't even imagine and probably don't want to.”

  Picking up the key with one hand and taking Jason's arm with the other, she said quietly. “One thing I can imagine is that shower we were talking about.”

  Jason leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her temple. “Oh, yeah, I can imagine that, too...but why imagine?”

  Pulling him up from his seat she whispered in his ear “Oh, I don’t know, that gamey boy-smell kind of turns me on.”

  Chapter Two

  Jason, Merlin and Beverley piled into Bev’s black Mini Cooper the following morning and drove north from Gatwick Airport, to the M40 past Birmingham, skirted Liverpool where, only three months earlier, Morgana le Fay had nearly killed Jason. Half an hour later they had bypassed the medieval town of Chester and were headed into the northern reaches of Wales. Even at the height of summer the hills and valleys of Wales can be subject to the most unpredictably unpleasant weather; the locals say that if you can see the mountains it’s about to rain, if you can't see them it’s because it’s already raining. Here, banks of lowering clouds with slate grey bellies cling perpetually to the mountain tops, making the countryside look like some mythical land ruled by small, petty and very angry gods. In the dead of winter Wales is far less hospitable.

  Long before Merlin directed Beverley to pull the Mini off of the main roadway and move onto back roads that were little more than unmarked sheep paths, the fat, black clouds had virtually devoured the ghostly shape of the distant mountains. If the occupants of the car could have seen the entire dome of the sky, it would have appeared to them like the upside-down surface of a cauldron filled with boiling lead. As they climbed steadily upward toward the distant hills, the air filled with a mist so thick that everything more than a few yards ahead of them was reduced to shimmering, spectral outlines. Not that there was much to see; the only things moving on the remote roads of rural Wales were a few sheep wandering aimlessly through the fog in search of any edible patch of grass that miraculously survived on the sodden, brown hills. On one occasion they passed near a border collie who paused in his work of shepherding a flock of sheep long enough to bark once at the passing Mini.

  “Nice country you got here, Merlin. Has it always been so inviting?”

  “Wales has its own peculiar charm, Jason. The atmosphere lends a mystery to the Welsh countryside that is found nowhere else in the world. It grows on you.”

  “So does a wart."

  “Don't mock what you don't understand.”

  “Where are we going again?” Beverley was straining her eyes through the fog, trying to follow Merlin's vague directions toward the coast and the westernmost edge of Great Britain.

  “Just follow the signs toward Ynys Enlli and Bardsey Island. It’s the same place; the road signs just list it in both English and Welsh. Can you make out the signs?”

  “Um Hum. I think so. As long as I don't go too fast.”

  “Take your time.”

  “Oh, there’s the turnoff, now. Ynys Enlli.�
� Beverley cranked the steering wheel hard to the right, bumping carefully over the rutted track that was the only roadway leading to Ynys Enlli Island.

  “When you get near the ocean, just park anywhere along the edge of the road and we can walk from there.”

  “Oh, look, over there’s a little car park. I can pull in there.”

  Once on the foot path, they stumbled along through the fog, Merlin in the lead, feeling his way according to some mental map that he had not accessed for a thousand and a half years. How he kept from getting hopelessly lost, the other two could not imagine. The fog had grown so thick it even blotted out the natural sounds of both the sea and the countryside, leaving them to stumble, nearly blind and deaf, through a soft, wet, silvery curtain. After a half-hour of climbing up hill and down, the temperature began to drop, a sure sign they were nearing a large body of water. Ten minutes later, the tough gorse and dead ferns covering the landscape began to give way to a rock-strewn shingle.

  Merlin stopped moving, looked left and right while idly wringing the water out of his beard. “We need to follow the shore northward until we come to a big hawthorn bush standing on its own.”

  “What makes you think this bush is still here after all these eons?” Jason was holding tight to Beverley's hand, helping her over the uneven stones and rocks of the beach.

  “It will still be here. Never fear.”

  “Is this where your friend, Vivian, lives? Out here on the edge of the world?” Beverley was fighting to maintain her balance, while keeping up with Jason and Merlin and still carry on a conversation.

  “More or less. She lives on the island; it’s about two miles off shore. Out there somewhere.” Merlin gestured vaguely to his left. “Today they call it Ynys Enlli or Bardsey, in my day it was commonly known as either ‘the road to heaven’ or ‘the gate to paradise’ but its proper name was Avalon.”

  “You mean Avalon was a real place?”

  “Oh, my, yes. Later scholars somehow came to the bizarrely erroneous conclusion that it was somewhere near Glastonbury, but it was here in Wales. Ah, and there it is.”

  “Where’s what?” Straining his eyes, Jason could hardly see ten feet ahead of him.

  “The hawthorn. It’s over here.”

  The twisted shape of an ancient thorn bush suddenly appeared out of the fog, looming up in front of them. Massive, gaunt and leafless in winter, its gnarled branches looked like skeletal fingers reaching out to ensnare unwary passers-by. Following Merlin haltingly toward the bush, Jason and Beverley came to a stop only inches from the briar covered branches.

  “Where to now?”

  “Through the bush, Jason. Through the bush. Here, let me pull the branches apart. You go first and open the way while I hold the path open for Beverley.”

  “Through the bush? Why don't we just go around it? There isn’t another thing within a million miles.” Jason gestured toward the endless expanse of open shoreline stretching into the foggy distance on either side of them.

  “Because going around it won't take us to where we’re going. Now, come on boy, step lively.”

  Lowering his head and elbowing his way through the ensnaring barbs and twigs of the hawthorn, Jason stumbled forward, holding Beverley’s hand to help her along. A minute later, the three of them were out of the thicket and standing on the same rocky shingle as before, but in the time it had taken them to fight their way through the shrub, the fog had dissipated enough that they could clearly see the gently lapping sea in front of them. In the distance, far out across the glassy, green surface of the water, stood a fog enshrouded island.

  Looking around, Beverley furrowed her brow in confusion. “I would have thought the fog would have hung more heavily on the water than on the surrounding land. This seems to be all backwards.”

  “Turn around and look back the way we came.” Merlin's voice was simultaneously playful and commanding.

  Doing an about face, Beverley drew in a quick breath of amazement. The nearly impenetrable curtain of fog had all but disappeared. Behind them she could see the path they had followed all the way back to the roadway where the Mini was parked somewhere in the distance.

  “Where did the fog go?”

  “It is still there, but it only exists on the other side of the hawthorn.”

  “That’s why we had to come through the bush, isn't it?” Beverley seemed fascinated by this impossible truth, but Jason still scowled incredulously. Excited, almost like a child discovering a new plaything, she continued. “How do we get to your friend's house?”

  “Let's just go over there on the shingle and sit down. She should be along in a minute.”

  Exchanging a confused look and a quick shrug, Jason and Beverley followed the receding shape of Merlin as he made his way along the shore to what he evidently considered an accommodating spot and sat down heavily on the rocky beach. By the time they caught up with him, Merlin had leaned back, pulled his filthy fur coat close around him and locked his hands behind his head.

  “You might as well sit down and relax; the only thing we can do now is wait.”

  Jason thumped his flanks on the stony ground a few feet from the wizard and pulled Beverley down after him. Sensing that Merlin felt the need to remain silent, they chatted between themselves in low tones, catching up on each other's lives during their nearly two months of separation. In the middle of their discussion of Jason's former professor and faculty advisor, Dr Carver Daniels, Beverley suddenly sat up and pointed toward the fuzzy outline of the fog-shrouded island.

  “Jason,” her voice lowered to an almost inaudible whisper as she leaned close to his shoulder. “The fog on the island, it’s moving this way, across the water, toward the shore.”

  Sure enough, as Jason refocused his gaze toward the misty surface of the Irish Sea, he could see a single, slim finger of fog creeping across the water toward the spot where the three of them sat.

  “Merlin. I hate to bother you. But should that fog be moving toward us?”

  “Yes, it should.” Merlin's face morphed into a faint grin and his voice was distant, dreamy and detached in a way Jason had never heard it before.

  Within minutes, the tendril of mist had floated across the two miles of choppy water and was creeping onto the shore, swirling near the prone figure of Merlin. As the other two watched in uneasy fascination, the water vapor began to take form, shifting and condensing into a vaguely human shape. It was soon apparent that the solidifying figure was leaning low, reaching across Merlin's body. Slowly, slowly, the mist first shimmered and then dissipated to be replaced by the figure of a very young woman in a nearly translucent, diaphanous blue-green gown; her long white-blond hair streaming across her shoulders and back, nearly reaching her hips. When she lifted her head, Jason and Beverley could tell she was wearing a silvery band around her head. The circlet glinted and shimmered in the pale wintry light, but they could see it clearly enough to tell it was decorated with the forms of dozens of tiny fish, each one catching and reflecting the light so the tiny creatures almost looked like they were alive and swimming around her head.

  “Merlin? Merlin, my love, is that you?” The woman's voice was distant, vague and musical, almost like a sound heard from far off, or down a length of hollow pipe. At the sound of her voice Merlin opened his eyes, hoisted himself up on his elbows and smiled.

  “Vivian. My good lady. How lovely you look, child.” Scrambling to his feet, Merlin dusted the sand and dirt from his coat before laying his hands on the young woman's shoulders and staring hard into her face. Even from where Jason and Beverley were sitting, it was obvious that Vivian was still in her mid-teens. The flesh on her face, throat and arms still had that porcelain-like, nearly translucent beauty that blond girls on the edge of full womanhood sometimes manage to achieve. Her eyes were blue, like Merlin's, but where his were a riveting, electric blue, hers were pale and watery, so delicately colored that in the wrong light she could almost have been mistaken for being blind.

  “Have you c
ome back to be with me, my love? I have waited for you...how long has it been? Has it been a long time since I last saw you?”

  “Yes, it has. Too long, far too long. But I’m afraid I can only stay here with you for a very little while. My friends and I need your help and then I have to leave again.”

  The woman scowled slightly in confusion as she laid a gentle hand on Merlin's craggy face and drew it down across his snowy white beard. “Are you old?”

  “Yes. I am. Very old.”

  “When will you be young again?” She was staring hard into his face, trying vainly to grasp a concept that was obviously beyond her experience, knowledge or understanding.

  “Never. I’m afraid I don’t know how to be young again. It’s the way of things in the world of men. When we age, it’s irreversible. And now I’m too old to be your lover, but I still love you, my child. I will always love you as I always have.”

  Shaking her head slowly, she stared at her hand as two fingers plucked an invisible speck of lint from the front of Merlin's filthy coat. “Did you say you have friends with you?”

  “Yes, they’re over there.” Merlin indicated Beverley and Jason with one hand, gently turning Vivian's head with the other. When she saw them, she smiled a strange, eerie, slightly vacant smile.

  “Are you Merlin's friends, too?”

  Jason nodded, but it was Beverley who stepped forward, extending her hand toward the young woman. “Yes. I’m Beverley McCullough and this is my friend Jason Carpenter.”

  Vivian took Beverley's hand in her own and smiled again. “Do you know Merlin's other friend? Arthur? Did Merlin tell you that I once gave Arthur a sword?”

  Stunned for a moment, Beverley did not know quite how to answer and she was relieved when Merlin stepped between them and put a protective arm around Vivian. But when he spoke, it was to Beverley that his words were directed.

  “Vivian has no concept of time, you see. To her, past, present and future are all the same, she can remember the future as easily as we can remember the past. That’s why she wasn't sure whether I was old or young. We could never explain to her why it would be impossible for you to know Arthur.”