Buried

by Emma Shelford

  “The right time for what?” she whispers.

  “Nimue, I love you. More than I’ve loved anyone. I don’t know that I truly knew what love between two souls was until I met you. And I wish for your hand in marriage.” She gasps softly at that, but I plow ahead. Now that the words are coming, I can’t stop them. “I don’t know what marriage would mean for us. You are the Lady of the Lake, with the responsibilities that entails, and I would never wish to get in the way of your duties. I am not a normal man, and I can’t forsake Arthur and his mission to bring peace to our lands. All I know is that I want you to know that I am yours, all of me, forever.”

  Nimue’s eyes glisten with unshed tears.

  “I care not how we make this work, only that we do. You are my heart, Merlin. I will never leave you.”

  ***

  Guinevere looks around with interest from her seat on a gray palfrey. The rain has finally stopped, and she has pushed back the hood of her cloak from her blond braids to see better. Her riding trousers are damp, as are mine, but it doesn’t seem to bother her despite the cold.

  “What a beautiful valley,” she declares. “Wet, like freshly washed laundry. We will catch cold from the wet, but the view makes up for it.”

  I smile at her enthusiasm.

  “You’re in a good mood. Is it the view, or the fact that you will see Arthur tonight at the villa?”

  She grins playfully.

  “Can it be both?”

  “Of course. Indeed, I am looking forward to a break from campaigning. Winter came late this year. It was a long series of battles this summer.”

  “And a long summer keeping Lady Lyn company, for me,” says Guinevere. “It is nothing to fighting, but I will be glad to be in my own home. She is very…”

  “Overbearing?” I say.

  “Yes. But her house is safe in the hills, and I am grateful for her hospitality.”

  We ride with an escort of five fighting men and three of Guinevere’s ladies. The horse of the frontmost rider whickers nervously. I look around with a frown. We are dipping into a crevasse between rocks as we descend into the valley, with thick bushes on either side. It is the perfect spot for an ambush.

  As the thought occurs to me, an arrow lands with a thud in the thigh of one of the men. He screams. The crevasse erupts with neighing horses and panicked riders. Another arrow forces a fighter to the ground. While I slide my sword from my scabbard and prepare to dismount, something punches my shoulder with the force of two men. I am expelled from my saddle and land with a thump amid thundering hooves.

  The pain comes next. Fire follows tearing pressure and rips through my flesh with unbearable heat. My focus is torn away from the pain by Guinevere’s screams. I lumber to my feet, my vision tunneling briefly from the motion in my arrow wound.

  I’m too late. The fight was over before it had truly begun. We were hopelessly overwhelmed, taken by surprise. Guilt churns my stomach at the sight of fellow fighters writhing on the ground and the women tightly contained in Saxon arms. Guinevere has a cut lip and her braids are coming undone, but she looks defiant. The Saxons laugh and look pleased with themselves while some rifle through our saddlebags for plunder.

  A large Saxon strides forward. He is older and clearly did not take part in the skirmish, although I have no doubt that he would be a formidable foe. His dirty blond hair is slicked back in rows and his broad face looks familiar. I narrow my eyes and weigh my chances against these men. I am wounded and outnumbered, but how can I stand idle? As I make up my mind to attack, Guinevere gasps.

  “Uncle?” she says breathlessly in Saxon. The large man peers at her. “Uncle, it’s Guinevere, Framric’s daughter. You must remember me.”

  “Little Vera?” The man’s eyes widen. “So it is. What in Woden’s name are you doing at the wrong end of a raiding party?” He waves at the Saxon holding Guinevere, and the man lets go. Guinevere rubs her arms.

  “Father married me to the Briton Arthur, years ago now, to seal the truce. Father and his tribe live peacefully alongside the Britons now. When did you arrive from the mainland? Has my father not spoken of this? Why have you attacked us?” Her voice grows stronger with every question. Her uncle blinks.

  “We are on our way to see your father. He invited us to settle with him. I lead a small party to assess. As for attacking you, I would never hurt little Vera. I thought you were a group of lowly Britons, ripe for plundering. A little gold never goes amiss.”

  Guinevere puts her hands on her hips.

  “Uncle, I am glad to see you. But you must understand, these ‘lowly Britons’ are our friends and allies now. I suggest you refrain from any more raids until you speak with my father and understand who is friend and who is foe.”

  Her uncle gazes at her for a moment, either debating her advice or wondering when “little Vera” became a fierce woman. I hold my breath and try not to pass out from the fiery pain. Finally, he nods.

  “Release them,” he orders his men. They grumble but obey. Guinevere’s women flock behind her, and the men who are able drag themselves to their feet. The uncle walks forward and clasps Guinevere’s hands between his own.

  “Well met, my niece. My apologies for the attack. Can we aid your wounded?”

  With a half-glance at me, Guinevere declines.

  “Thank you, uncle, but we will manage. May we meet next time as friends.”

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  I wake with a heart full of lightness. It’s such an uncommon occurrence these days that the reason puzzles me. Why am I so happy?

  I open my eyes and remember why. Minnie’s head lies on my pillow. Her dark hair frames her face with a tendril over her forehead. Her bare shoulder is pale and fragile-looking, so I gently pull the blanket over her.

  The slight movement wakes Minnie. Her eyes flutter open, and it takes her a moment to focus on my sheepish face. She smiles in question.

  “Good morning. Why do you look so guilty?”

  “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was only fixing the covers.”

  She reaches out in response, and I fold her in an embrace. We rearrange our limbs until her back and bottom are nestled against my front.

  We lie in this position, unspeaking, for several minutes. It’s utterly blissful. A creeping veil of sadness, of the thought that this can’t last, threatens to overwhelm the moment. I banish the feeling. What’s the point of having such moments if I can’t enjoy them? I made my choice.

  “Are you going back to sleep?” Minnie whispers.

  “No. This moment is too pleasant to waste on sleep. You?”

  “I’ve had enough. Well, I could probably sleep for a week, but I’ve had enough to hear an explanation about yesterday.”

  “Ah, yes.” I suppose it had to happen sooner rather than later. “Can I ask first, what did it look like on your end?”

  Minnie lets out her breath in a long, contemplative sigh.

  “I drove to Pacific Spirit Park at lunch yesterday, thinking there was a hiking group I was joining. A bunch of people were there, they were friendly enough but a little strange in retrospect. Odd glances, you know. We walked for maybe twenty minutes. We were nearing the other side, where the path gets close to the road, when they grabbed me, tied me up with a gag and a blindfold, and threw me in a van. We drove and drove, and when they finally took off the blindfold, I was in a gross old basement. They fed me, but no one spoke, not once. In the morning, they drove to Scotia Park and forced me into the tunnel at knifepoint.”

  I squeeze Minnie tightly.

  “If I hadn’t broken it off with you, I would have joined you at this so-called mountaineering club, and none of this would have happened.”

  Minnie rubs my arm. Her voice has a trace of a smile.

  “We can’t predict the future. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Anyway, we finally made it to the central cave. They set up battery-powered lights, then drew a big circle on the ground and forced me to the center. I couldn’t move after that, I don’t know what
they did. Then they held hands around the circle and chanted.” She shivers. “It was really creepy. That’s when I started getting even more worried, if that was possible. I’d learned enough about cults in my studies to see the signs. There was a flash of color, just for a moment, then it was silent. They were still chanting, but I couldn’t hear it. There was nothing I could do but wait to die.”

  She stops for a moment, and her shoulders tremble. I clutch her tightly, disgusted with Potestas, with myself for being too slow.

  “But then, you and your friends turned up,” she says. Her voice is surprisingly strong. “It was pretty amazing to see. The cult was falling like flies under your attack. And your faces―you all meant business. I’ve never felt such a wave of pure gratitude and hope as I did then.

  “Then you called Alejandro over and waved your hands around, and you went all strange. You walked like you were newly blind, carefully and stiff-legged. And there was nothing behind your eyes. I would have been terrified had it been anyone but you.

  “And that’s it. I must have passed out, because when I woke up, the fight was over.”

  Minnie wriggles in my arms until we are face to face.

  “So? How did you find me? What was the cult about? And what happened to you in that circle?”

  I stare into her blue eyes, scarcely covered by lauvan now. Looks like it’s time, whether I’m ready or not. Perhaps I should shout it out from my balcony―my powers are hardly a secret, now.

  “The cult, as you put it, is called Potestas.”

  I briefly outline the organization and what they were attempting to do. Minnie’s eyebrows rise in incredulity with the mention of spirits, but after a moment I can tell she remembers the strange abilities of the Potestas members, and her skepticism wavers.

  “Wait, those voices you were hearing. That wasn’t a mental health issue, was it?”

  “No, that was me hearing spirits. Hence, why I didn’t follow up with the psychiatrist you referred me to. I’m certain that medication wouldn’t have helped, in this case.”

  “And how did you become a member in this organization?” Minnie asks. “Do you have a crystal ball I should know about?”

  “Not quite. There’s a complicated story about a volcano―”

  Minnie’s face clears in understanding.

  “Wallerton. You’ve mentioned it before.”

  During out therapy sessions, I told her about it in relation to my intimacy with Anna. I hastily move on.

  “But they found out then that I have abilities that they both envy and covet. They invited me in to use me how they could, and I accepted to bring them down from the inside.”

  “Abilities?” Minnie’s expression is curious and expectant. My lip twitches in a growing grin. I reach over and grab the waving lauvan from a water glass on the bedside table.

  “Open your mouth,” I instruct and slowly guide a large droplet of water through the air. It gently lands in Minnie’s awestruck open mouth. She swallows then blinks at me.

  “Was that for real?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Is it an elaborate trick, or magic?”

  “Magic, you could call it.” I search her face for signs of fear. She pulls me closer.

  “That’s sexy,” she breathes in my ear. “Stop trying to turn me on when I have more questions. There will be plenty of time for magic later.”

  I laugh in delight. That is possibly the best reaction I could ever hope for. I reach under the sheet and grab her hip to press into mine while I kiss her. She pulls away after a sweet minute of caressing and pulls the sheet up in a show of modesty.

  “Be good, Dr. Lytton,” she chastises me with a wink. “Now what are these abilities?”

  I flop onto my back in defeat.

  “There is an aura―for lack of a better word―around everything with energy. I can see it, touch it, move it, and change the physical world with it.”

  “Huh.” She gazes at me for a moment. “And how did that happen? Nuclear accident? Deal with the devil?”

  “I was born with it.” I pause and my brow furrows. “Actually, I just found out. My mother was human, but my father, apparently, was a spirit. Earth elemental to be precise. So, that makes me…” I stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know what that makes me.”

  “What emotions are stirred by this discovery?” Minnie has her professional voice on, which makes me smile and look at her. She smiles back, aware of my noticing but undeterred.

  “I don’t know. Anger, I suppose, that he was alive until recently and never sought me out. But, then, he was in a different plane of existence.” I grind the heel of my palm against my forehead in frustration. “Regret that I might have had an opportunity to find out more about myself. More anger that the information would have come at the cost of your life. Guilt that a tiny part of me still wanted to know. Confusion. What am I? What do I do with this knowledge?”

  Minnie nods slowly, then lays a hand on my chest.

  “For what it’s worth, you have my forgiveness for wanting to know.” She strokes my chest with soft fingers. “And I don’t know what it means for you. I hardly know what to think of all this. But I do know that I want to figure it out with you.” She leans over and kisses me on the shoulder, neck, jaw. She stops with her lips almost touching mine. “Together?”

  “Together,” I agree, and wrap my arms around her waist. I had debated telling her about my lengthy past right now, since she is taking this all so well, but it can wait. We have more important things to do first.

  ***

  I was afraid that Minnie would be fearful after her kidnapping experience, but her trust in me is absolute that I have stopped Potestas for good. She is relaxed and, despite a little fatigue, in good health.

  “I need to go home, get clean clothes,” she says. “I’ll cancel my appointments today, though. I think a mental health day is in order after almost being killed.” She smiles at me while she buttons her shirt to let me know she’s all right. “Tea and a good book are what I’ll prescribe to myself.”

  I try to smile, but it twists on my mouth. I don’t want her to go, not now that I’ve finally admitted my love for her to myself. I don’t want to appear overly insecure, so I don’t voice my thoughts aloud. They must be written on my face, for Minnie laughs lightly and bends down to plant a kiss on my lips.

  “I’ll be back tonight, if you’ll have me.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied to be your booty call,” I say. I pull Minnie to the bed and press the length of my body against hers while I kiss her. When I release her, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes bright. I stand and pull her up. “Just to make sure you come back.”

  “Unnecessary, but not unwelcome.” She kisses me on the cheek then walks out the door. I watch her go with a foolish grin on my face.

  Then I remember that I’m fully naked, and Alejandro will come over soon. I need to tell him about my heritage revelations, and since he and Jen don’t seem to be talking yet, I can’t rely on her to keep him informed.

  When there is a knock on the door, I am dressed and filling the kettle in the kitchen.

  “Come in,” I call out. Alejandro walks into the kitchen with a pensive expression, but his brow furrows when he looks around.

  “I thought Minnie would be here.”

  “She just left.” I pull mugs from the cupboard.

  “So, you two are together now?”

  I sigh, in both happiness and resignation.

  “It appears so. I have bowed to the inevitable.” I look at Alejandro. He is lost in thought once more. “What has you so reflective?”

  “It’s these dreams.” He rubs his temples. “They’re getting stronger. I didn’t say anything while we were looking for Minnie―too much going on―but sometimes even in the day I get visions.” He stares at me with confused panic simmering below the surface. “Merlo, do you believe in reincarnation?”

  “You’re not the first person to ask me that recently. Anna Green said something similar.�
�� Alejandro’s hands tremble, so I steer him by the shoulder to sit on a dining room chair. “Go on, tell me what you think is happening.”

  “Every night, endless dreams. I’m always me, but in different times and places. And yesterday, when we were fighting Potestas, I had visions of me fighting alongside others. And you, always you, in most of these dreams.” Alejandro rubs his face, but it doesn’t appear to bring him any clarity. “It’s been ever since I touched the grail. Am I going crazy? Or…”

  “Or what?”

  “Or is it possible that I used to be Arthur?”

  I simply stare at him. My first thought is of denial. I’ve never heard of such a thing, so how could it be true? Then I remember my recent introduction to the spirits, and my conviction wavers. Is Alejandro’s theory so far-fetched? The reaction he had with the grail―something fundamental happened, I’m sure. March and Anna’s knowing looks suddenly make more sense when viewed through this lens. Do they also know me from my past? From our shared past?

  Then my brain catches up. If what Alejandro says is true, then Arthur has returned, in a fashion. He honored his promise.

  I’m alone no longer.

  “It sounds ridiculous out loud,” says Alejandro. “That I’m claiming to be some ancient king. Conceited. If reincarnation is real, then it’s more likely that I was some muddy peasant. But, these dreams.” He closes his eyes briefly. “They’re so real, so much detail. How could I imagine them? They feel like memories, not dreams.”

  My dreams are memories, also, so I know what Alejandro means. My mouth opens, but no words spill out. I clear my throat and try again.

  “Tell me about a dream that I’m not in,” I say hoarsely. “I need to know you’re not simply viewing my own visions, that somehow transferred to you.”

  Alejandro nods and closes his eyes. His voice grows less strained and more wandering.