The Merlin Chronicles: Box Set (All Three Novels)

by Daniel Diehl

  “Yeah. I’m not even sure how we’re going to move two or three dozen of these things around in the field.”

  “So, young Master Engineer, how do you intend to keep - what did you say – thirty of these ballistae, mobile enough to move them from one place to another as the tide of battle – and the dragons - move around?”

  Jason was unsure whether Ambrosius had overheard his exchange with Davidd or whether he was enjoying making Jason look stupid. While Jason scratched his head, pondering the effectiveness of mounting the things on small wheels, like a catapult, it was King Arthur who spoke.

  “Let me be sure I understand the problem, uncle. We need to be able to move the ballistae to the battle site, however far that may be, and also keep them mobile during the fight; am I correct?” Both Ambrosius and Jason nodded their assent. “Then why not simply mount each of them on its own cart? We can pack supplies around them during the journey and leave the carts hitched to a team during battle. That way we can move them as far and as fast as necessary to keep pace with the ebb and flow of the fight.” When the only response was a lot of wide eyes and slowly nodding heads, Arthur added “So, will this work or is there something here that I don’t understand?”

  “It’s brilliant, my Lord.” Jason nodded his head furiously, grinning from ear to ear. It’s going to take a lot of wagons and a lot of extra men, but it’s absolutely brilliant.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to be as complicated as you imagine, Jason. If the armies from the continent join us we will be using hundreds of wagons anyway, and a few dozen extra men to tend the horses during battle should be no problem. I’m sure there are hundreds of brave yeomen farmers and craftsmen who have no skill at arms but will gladly volunteer to help rid the kingdom of these beasts.”

  Jason nodded and leaned forward, motioning the king to come closer so they could have a quiet, private word. “Speaking of your men; I really hate to bring up another request, my Lord, but…”

  “Jason, your tactics have already saved the lives of hundreds of my men and your stirrup has improved the effectiveness of my equites tremendously. If you have another suggestion that will increase the effectiveness of my army never hesitate to tell me. If we need weapons we will find a way to pay for them.” Glancing over his shoulder, Arthur called out “Isn’t that right, uncle?”

  Ambrosius snapped to attention, his best Klingon scowl directed at his nephew. “Isn’t what right?”

  “That we will do whatever is necessary to protect the future of our kingdom and the lives of our men.”

  “With that, I agree completely. Dead men do not win battles.”

  Smiling, Arthur turned back to Jason. “Now, what is it you need?”

  “Your shields. They’re made of wood with rawhide stretched over it.”

  “And?”

  “And the dragons breathe fire. Even the minutest exposure to fire and your men’s shields will burn.”

  “And you suggest what?”

  “The shields need to be covered with a thin layer of metal – preferably iron, copper melts too quickly.”

  “But the added weight will make them impossible to carry.”

  “Reduce the thickness of the wood by half and beat the iron as thin as possible. If you use overlapping strips or small plates it will make the smith’s work easier and the shields quicker to build.”

  “And you think this will protect my men from the dragons’ breath?”

  “It will certainly help.”

  “Then we will make it so. Tell the armorer and the smith that it is my desire that they make as many of these metal shields as possible. We will distribute them to the front ranks who will be closest to the creatures. Who knows, by the time we march we may have enough to equip the entire army.”

  “And when do you plan on going after the dragons, my Lord?”

  In reply, Arthur took Jason by the arm and walked to where Ambrosius stood gently stroking the bed of the ballista, fawning over it like the thing had just turned into his favorite dog.

  “Uncle, Master Jason asked when the army marches to find the dragons’ lair and do battle with the creatures.”

  The old man turned, scratching his stomach as though it helped him concentrate, and stared into the distance. “Well…we have to wait till the others get here. Depending on the weather over the channel that could take two months or more. And then your moth-eaten wizard needs to tell us where these things live, so we can find them.”

  The queen stepped forward, coughed gently to attract her husband’s attention and added, “And you cannot possibly leave before the spring planting is finished or we will all starve by the time autumn comes.”

  Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger in concentration. “Given all of these variables, and assuming Merlin can locate the creatures, I think we should be ready to move out by the Feast of St John the Baptist.”

  Jason scowled and had already opened his mouth to speak, despite knowing exactly how stupid his question would make him look, when Beverley leaned over his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “June twenty-fourth, and you really should have taken a few classes on medieval life.”

  “I did.”

  “Then you should have stayed awake.”

  Jason nodded and sighed. “Thanks, Babe.”

  Beverley patted his shoulder and stepped back, allowing the fantasy that all great decisions were made by men to continue unchallenged.

  “And speaking of your wizard, nephew, why wasn’t he here to watch this wonderful new machine in action?” Ambrosius was still admiring the ballista as though it might vanish if he took his eyes off of it even for a second.

  Arthur turned away from Jason, motioning for Davidd and his men to drag the weapon back into the barn which was about to become a ballista factory. “Merlin has gone to Cornwall, uncle. He’s trading for copper and tin so we can make the chain necessary for…” Here he turned to Jason. “How many arrows will we need, Master Engineer?”

  “Thirty ballistae, and let’s say, thirty arrows each. That works out to…ummm…wow… that’s nine hundred arrows and if we figure, maybe a thousand feet of chain per arrow.” Jason’s eyes grew large at the realization of just how much work and material this was going to require. “I think we may have to reel some of it back in and reuse it during the battle.”

  Jason’s stream of thought was interrupted by the darting figure of a small boy who came running around the corner of the old villa, waving his arms and shouting. With dirt smeared across his face, hands and bare legs even at this early hour of the morning, the boy rushed up to the king, breathless.

  “My Lord.” The boy had been running so hard he could hardly breathe and he had to wait to finish until he caught his breath. “My Lord, the praefator has returned and he has a thousand wagon loads of gold with him.”

  Arthur smiled and laid his hand on the boy’s head. “Are you certain it’s the praefator, lad?”

  “Yes, sir. And he’s coming into Baenin right now. Hurry.”

  The king turned to the crowd and smiled. “I doubt that even Merlin could have traveled to the depths of Cornwall, concluded his business and returned in only four days, but I think we should see what great wonder has this fine young man so excited.”

  * * * *

  Merlin turned around, leaned his back against the edge of his worktable and chuckled. Jason looked up from his latest lesson on how to direct the activity of a scrying bowl in utter confusion.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry, Jason. I was just being amused at that child who thought I was bringing wagon loads of gold to court.” Leaning close to Jason he smiled “He must have mistaken me for an alchemist.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, thirty-nine wagon loads of bronze chain is worth more than all the gold in the world; at least as far as fighting dragons is concerned.”

  “I’m glad you approve, my boy. I will confess that supplying that much chain and bringing it here in such a short tim
e stretched even my abilities.”

  Jason turned to face the old man, leaned one hip against the workbench and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ok. Now that we’re brother wizards, will you please tell me how you did it?” Merlin cast his line of sight toward the ceiling, his electric blue eyes as innocent as a child’s. “Oh, come on, Merlin. You were only gone for four days. That just about gave you time to get to Cornwall. There is no way you could have negotiated a deal for that much copper and tin, let alone found enough craftsmen to turn even one tenth of it into chain. So how did you do it?”

  Merlin offered a lop-sided grin. “And don’t forget that I got the Cornishmen to agree to supply us with at least five hundred troops for Arthur’s army.”

  “You really love to rub it in, don’t you?” By this point Merlin’s grin had grown as wide as a Cheshire cat’s, but he just stood mute and grinning. “You’re not going to tell me, are you? I understand that you wouldn’t tell Arthur, it’s a trade secret, after all. But we’re supposed to be in this together. Now, are you going to tell me or not?”

  “Let’s just say that while there are many things I cannot do, there are others that I can do extremely well. Now, please, let’s get back to our scrying lesson. It’s time we checked in on Mistress le Fay.”

  Jason windmilled his arms helplessly. “You’re really not going to tell me, are you?”

  “Not until you’re ready.”

  “God. Sometimes you just make me crazy, old man.”

  Merlin grinned, pointed at the shelf to Jason’s left, saying “Pass me the jar marked Achillea millefolium.”

  Jason shook his head and began scanning the rows of colored pottery jars, squinting to read the tiny velum labels written in Merlin’s cramped writing. “Ach…Ach…”

  “To your left, the blue one.”

  “Ah-ha. Achillea millefolium. Got it.”

  Jason handed the squat jug to Merlin who gently removed the wooden stopper, shaking a small quantity of powdered, dried herb into his hand.

  “The entire scrying process is much easier when you have a real mirror to work with. The glass, or preferably crystal, will hold the spell indefinitely. When you are limited to using water, the spell has to be recast each time you empty the bowl.” Waving the container of dried plant matter in the air before setting it aside and sprinkling a tiny amount on the surface of the water, he muttered “And this is from the plant which you may know as Yarrow. It has certain astringent qualities and I also use it in a number of my healing balms. In this application it helps clarify the image.” Grinning, he added “Helps keep the picture in focus, if you will.”

  Jason watched the powdery, gray-green flakes swirl on the surface of the water.

  “So why do you use a jet bowl rather than one made from some other material?”

  “It’s black.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said; I use jet because it’s black. It gives me a dark, neutral background that doesn’t interfere with the images.”

  “You mean the jet doesn’t have any magical qualities?”

  “Certainly not. Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “You.”

  “Ahh, yes. So I did. Sorry.”

  Changing the subject to avoid having to provide a lengthy, awkward explanation, Merlin pointed at the massive book lying on the table between them. “Now, Jason, I want you to follow along while I recite the first incantation. That’s it, right there, the middle paragraph.”

  For the next half hour Merlin walked Jason through the laborious process of turning a bowl of ordinary water into an effective tool for spying on people. He explained each ingredient and incantation in detail and instructed Jason on the precise runes that had to be scribed in the air in precise synchronization with the recitations. During the first run-through, Jason just observed closely, but the second, third and fourth times he mimicked Merlin’s movements, concentrating intently on each sound and motion of his hands.

  “Now. You see that small incantation there?” Merlin pointed to three lines of Latin verse written in faded red ink. In response, Jason only nodded. “Read them. Memorize them, and then stand back a step.” When Jason complied, Merlin spoke the final words of the spell, leaned his body away from the bowl and snapped his fingers. A tiny shower of sparks flared from his fingertips and dropped toward the surface of the bowl. When the sparks touched the water there was a deafening rushing sound and a tower of flames, sparks and smoke shot toward the ceiling. A second later the air had cleared, leaving only a slightly earthy aroma lingering in the room. Grinning, Merlin turned to Jason.

  “I really love that part; WHOOSH.”

  “You are one very strange man. I think you were in that little ball too long.”

  “Oh, come on Jason, loosen up, this is fun. What boy doesn’t want to grow up to be a wizard?

  In spite of himself, Jason had a fleeting vision of himself as Harry Potter, grinned and nodded. “Ok, so who are we going to spy on today?”

  “I think it’s time we started keeping an eye on Mistress le Fay. Since Arthur is busy assembling an army to fight the dragons, we need to start providing him with all the intelligence we can. And also because we’re going to pay a visit to the good lady’s library in the very near future…”

  “You.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You meant to say that YOU are going to her library.”

  “No. WE are going to rob her library. You and I. Together. As a team.”

  “Woah, slow down, there. The last time you did this you handled it yourself.”

  “That’s right. And this time we’re going to do it together.”

  Jason fluttered his hands helplessly. “This is exactly what I was talking about. You do this shit all the time. You manipulate people mercilessly. I still don’t understand why you just didn’t bring her books back with you from the twenty-first century.”

  “It’s not about me having the books. It’s about the fact that she will have the books until I steal them and in this timeline I haven’t stolen them yet. I cannot allow her to continue to have access to the books because the second she realizes Arthur is mounting a war against the dragons she will do something terrible, and we have to do everything we can to limit her access to the dangerous information that’s inside those books. And the only way to do that is to take them from her.”

  “Why can’t you just plug up the dragon gate with a spell like you did the last time? It’s not like you have to hold it closed for another sixteen hundred years.”

  “Jason, even with the help of her books it took me five months of constant work to cast that spell. I don’t have five months. I have less than three months until the end of June when Arthur marches. And between now and then I have to tell him where to go to confront the dragons.”

  “You’re going to send him to the Hellfire caves, aren’t you?”

  “I can’t do that. The caves are in Saxon-held territory and we can’t fight a war with the Saxons and simultaneously fight the dragons.”

  “So where are you going to send him?”

  Merlin turned away, staring at the floor and rubbing a hand across his high forehead. When he turned back to Jason his mouth had become a hard line. “I’m going to tell him to attack Morgana’s fortress. The dragons will come to her rescue when she calls them. At least it will give us a way to choose a battle site that suits our attack strategy rather than risk meeting them on some random plot of land with terrain that might end up working against us. That’s what happened the last time; they caught us unaware and destroyed us.”

  “Wow. You’re going to send him out to destroy his own sister. Didn’t you once tell me that a lot of people at court had told him to do that exact thing a long time ago?”

  “Oh, there are many people who have been telling him that for years. Ambrosius told Uther to kill her more than twenty years ago and he has been telling Arthur the same thing since the day he came to the throne.”

  “But, of course, Arthur did
n’t know she was in bed with the dragons then, did he?”

  “No.”

  The way Merlin had begun studying the veins on the back of his hands gave Jason a slightly nauseous feeling. “But you have told him, right?” When there was no response, he repeated the question. “Right. Merlin? You have told King Arthur that his half-sister is working with the dragons, haven’t you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The woman sat facing the wall. All that was visible of her was a sea of sleek, raven black hair tumbling across her shoulders and down her back, as dark and thick as a midnight waterfall; beneath the hair her back was draped in royal purple. On her head was a diadem woven from hundreds of tiny, snow white pearls. On either side of the delicately carved table at which she sat stood shelves piled high with scrolls and leather-bound books ranging in size from the very small to impressively large.

  Between her hands was a low metal box, its top set with dozens of crystalline levers and dials in a wide array of sizes, shapes and colors. Some of the crystals were pulsing with light, throbbing, growing brighter and dimmer in no discernable pattern. Directly in front of her, on the cold stone wall of the big room, hung a three foot disk of bronze, worked and beaten until its surface was as smooth as silk and mirror bright. From the disk a face stared at the woman. The hideous image leered out through time and space, its long, gray-green crocodile-like jaws filled with crooked yellow teeth obscured fully half of the screen. Above the mouth a pair of gigantic golden eyes with glowing red pupil slits stared malignantly at Morgana le Fay. After a few moments Morgana le Fay fiddled with the crystals until a cloud passed across the gleaming disk and the image of the Dragon Lord shimmered, faded and finally vanished.

  When she turned from the table, rose and strode across the room, Jason got his first look at Morgana as she had appeared during her natural lifetime. Leaning closer to the black depths of the scrying bowl, he riveted his concentration on the image in the water. The first thing that struck him was the fact that Morgana’s face and form appeared exactly the same in the fifth century as they had in the twenty-first; her sculpted, heart shaped face and perfect ivory complexion were set off by a full, wide mouth and a pair of startlingly vivid violet eyes. Had it not been for the piercing eyes, her flawless, unlined face would have made her look like a girl in her early twenties. He knew this face intimately; it belonged to the same woman who had seduced and nearly killed him in a hotel room in Liverpool. This was also the woman who had dragged Beverley through the Hellfire caves in an attempt to throw her through the dragon gate but had been foiled at the last second by Merlin, who had saved Beverley and pushed Morgana through the vortex, tumbling through with her. He knew this woman for exactly who and what she was, and it made the flesh on his spine and arms creep.