Shades of Avalon (16 page)

“Who’s there?” I growled into the darkness.

Amanda and Guinevere froze and went deathly silent. The breathing continued, and I backed up, shielding the women.

“I know you,” a croaky voice said from the gloom beyond the entrance to the alcove.

Guinevere hesitantly moved forward, placing her hand on my arm to lower it. “Yes, you know me. I am Guinevere. Come into the light.”

“No.”

I blinked at the sharp response. It reverberated through the stone, and Amanda’s fingers tightened on the back of my jacket.

“Myrddin Emrys,” Guinevere began softly, almost concealing her irritation. “We have come to help you.”

“No,” Merlin spat. “You have come to seek my help, Guinevere Pendragon. You would have left me weakened but unable to cross the barrier to the Otherworld in death. You need me. You would have left me here to rot otherwise.”

Guinevere closed her eyes a moment and inhaled a calming breath. She made a more careful advance, her legs bent at the knee for balance. “Rot is an exaggeration. You know you can’t rot here. I was angry, but I’m not anymore.”

He huffed, dismissing her excuse, and I held my breath, hoping we hadn’t come on a fool’s errand. I didn’t want to have to return to Triona to deliver bad news.

“Arthur, has he forgiven me too?”

I was surprised to see Guinevere start. Just for an instant her stance relaxed, and her jaw slackened before she collected herself.

“Arthur fell at Camlann,” she said with a note of surprise. “I thought you knew this.”

We stood in silence for what seemed like several long minutes; in reality there was no way to know. Finally, a figure stepped into the shadow cast by Excalibur. A man shuffled toward us, filthy, with bedraggled gray hair to his shoulders partly concealing a deeply lined face. His nose and chin were narrow; his cheekbones cut a sharp line, which together with his pinched expression, gave him a rodent-like appearance. On closer inspection, the lines were symbols just like those on the wall. They had been etched into his flesh. He wore a simple long robe tied at the waist with cord, ratty with holes. His bare feet poked out the bottom, caked with dirt and tiny slashes oozing scarlet.

“No. Arthur lives,” he choked out, wild eyes darting around the space. “I was locked away for months after the battle, tortured and starved, before Morrígan stuck me here. She said Arthur struck down Mordred. She said Arthur lived yet. She wanted his location.” His voice grew louder and stronger with each word, building to a deafening bellow consumed with rage.

His eyes widened, noticing the sword for the first time. “No,” he mumbled. “No, no, no, no.” He spun away from us, clawing at the wall with angry slashes, his nails long, oval, and blackened.

I pushed Amanda further behind me. Merlin did not appear completely sane, clinging to the wall and whimpering. But what could I expect after centuries locked away in darkness and solitude?

Taking a step, my foot sank into the cave floor as though swallowed by marshmallow. I jerked back, and the floor was solid once more. Amanda tilted her head, watching me, and scratched her neck below her ear. She dropped her hand, and her lips twitched oddly. She scratched again. We had to move this along.

Guinevere glanced over her shoulder and nodded curtly, I presumed indicating she had expected Merlin’s insanity or something similar. “You are confused, Emrys.” She approached him carefully, as someone might a small, frightened animal. “Everything will make sense again soon.”

As soon as her fingers touched his arm, he jolted away, leveling her with a furious glare. “No,” he warned. “Do not dare treat me as an old fool.” Merlin returned to the wall, scraping at a small indented line.

She sighed, stepped back, and rubbed her eye. “As you wish.” Guinevere reached into the satchel with her free hand and pulled out a candy bar, intentionally crinkling the wrapper.

The dull ache in my head intensified, possibly as a result of the distortion or power drain Guinevere mentioned. Another quick glance at Amanda told me it was affecting her too. A veil of perspiration covered her pale face, and she looked up to me with bloodshot eyes. A patch of red bloomed below her ear. I drew her closer and kissed the top of her head. If Merlin didn’t start to cooperate, I’d have to do something. I’d carry him out of here by force before I would allow Amanda to succumb to this place.

Still holding the bar in one hand and using Excalibur as a torch, Guinevere managed to tear a corner off the wrapper. The sound seemed louder than possible in the quiet, and Merlin’s shoulders immediately twitched. He turned his head sideways and sniffed at the air.

“What is that?”

“That’s chocolate.”

He sniffed the air again and released his death grip on the stone. “Chocolate.” He rolled his tongue over the word and eyed the bar greedily. Merlin smacked his dirty lips and reached out with clawed grubby fingers tipped with oval talons. “Chocolate,” he repeated, and his tongue swiped out reminding me of a reptile’s.

He shuffled toward us, his fingers shaking. Just as the bar was in his grasp, Guinevere snatched it away.

“Eh, I don’t think so. If you want this, I’m going to need something from you.”

Merlin scowled bitterly. Guinevere raised an eyebrow, and his expression relaxed. The thickly layered dirt on his face creased, leaving white lines across his forehead. Guinevere smiled and handed him the bar.

“Wait,” Amanda exclaimed, drawing Guinevere’s attention. Merlin was already lost in consuming the bar, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk. “He has no food here. If he hasn’t eaten in a long time, won’t that make him sick?”

Guinevere chuckled and lifted the satchel over her head, laying it on the ground. “Believe me, it would take more than a chocolate bar to knock Merlin off his feet. We should move quickly. I’m feeling the drain of our surroundings.”

“Me too,” I added.

“Yes,” Amanda agreed. “I feel it as well. It’s like all my energy is being siphoned away, and I keep imagining ants climbing all over my body.” She flinched and shuddered.

“Tell us where the Philosopher’s Stone is,” Guinevere instructed.

Merlin’s face writhed in fear and turmoil.

“He doesn’t know,” I growled in frustration.

Guinevere removed clothing, a comb, and baby wipes from the satchel, watched closely by Merlin, who still pretty much ignored Amanda and me.

“No,” she insisted. “He knows. We just need to find it in that vault he calls a brain. We need to get him out of here.”

“Did you bring more?” he asked, waving the empty wrapper, his eyes hopeful.

“Yes.” She smiled up at him. “And you can have some just as soon as we are on our way.”

“Did you bring my mushrooms?”

“No. It’s not the season.”

Merlin gasped and dragged his fingers though his hair as he walked in a tight circle, mumbling to his feet. “I need them. Without my mushrooms…I need my mushrooms…”

“What is he talking about?” Amanda whispered, edging closer to Guinevere.

I narrowed my eyes. “He’s crazy,” I murmured.

Merlin froze and locked eyes with me. He straightened his shoulders, outright indignation radiating from him.

“You’ll soon learn crazy is relative when it comes to Emrys.” Guinevere shrugged. “He’ll be more coherent soon.” She removed the white bag last and held it up to show him. “Potions and compounds. Humans have made many advances. Think of them as chemical mushrooms.”

Merlin’s lips stretched into a tight smile. He rubbed his hands together, anxious to get them on the bounty in the white bag.

“What’s in there?” I asked. “Is that what you were collecting from the hospital?”

“Not
from
the hospital. My contact happens to work there. It’s little of this and that.” Guinevere stood. “Some prescription stuff, but mostly lysergic acid diethylamide.”

“You’re kidding me,” Amanda said, aghast. “You’re giving him LSD?”

Chapter 13

Copper and Salt

I
T
T
OOK
M
UCH
L
ONGER
to find our way back to where we had entered. By then, the batteries on both our phones were long dead, and Excalibur provided our only light. Merlin and I would still be able to see in the dark thanks to our Guardian blood. Amanda would be blind, and I expected Guinevere’s powers were tied to the sword in some way. As the luminescence of the blade dulled, she slowed and became increasingly weary and skittish of our surroundings. Clearly she didn’t expect the addition of jet stone to the spell that imprisoned Merlin.

“Time to get out of here,” I said as I stood Amanda on the ground beside me.

I’d been carrying her for over an hour because she kept tripping over the rough surface on the floor of the cave. She argued but soon crossed her arms and gave in with a pout. I’d used guilt, saying I’d never forgive myself if she was hurt again because of me.

“I can’t say I’ll be sorry to see the back of this place.”

“Me either,” Amanda added, clinging to my jacket and jerking her head to a sound only she heard.

I scrubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes, and white stars danced across my vision. Exhaustion withered my muscles and numbness inched down my limbs. Another hour and I might not have been able to keep going. I had to give Merlin credit. The mere fact he was still standing—albeit a meatball short of a full sub—proved he must have been formidable once. According to Guinevere, he’d spent a great deal of his time slurping down magic mushrooms and homemade potions when she had known him. He had claimed it opened him to the natural energies surrounding him—in other words he liked to get high.

Merlin scrutinized Guinevere as though he suspected she might vanish the way a mirage dissipates into the arid air of a desert. She had done all she could to clean him up, dressing him in a dark shirt and pants under a three-quarter-length wool coat. The clothes were too large and hung off his scrawny frame, but at least it was better than the robe. She’d also tied his hair at the nape of his neck with an elastic band and used the wipes to clean his face while he munched on miniature candy bars. He’d huffed like a child when he discovered he had eaten the entire supply. I’d half expected him to lie down and throw a full tantrum, but she had dissuaded him with promises of more on the other side of the cave boundaries.

I wished we had a few left. Emptiness gnawed at my gut, and I wondered if it was just another hallucination.

“Remember,” Guinevere warned us, “just like last time. Hold on and don’t let go.” She extended the sword with a trembling arm and gripped Merlin firmly with her other hand.

“Hello,” he greeted me again when I circled my fingers around his wrist.

I smiled tightly. Merlin appeared to remember my presence for only minutes at a time. I hoped any damage done by his time in the cave below Camelot wouldn’t be permanent.

“Please hurry,” Amanda whispered against my back, pressing her forehead to my spine.

I fumbled behind and took her hand, bringing it to my lips and kissing it. Her sweaty palm slid over mine, and I tasted salt on her skin. It caught the back of my nose and mingled with her usual vanilla scent.

“Now, Guinevere,” I instructed.

She nodded and swiped her tongue over cracked lips, focusing on the stone wall in front of her. Guinevere drove the sword forward with conviction but instead of passing through as before, blinding silver sparks fired in every direction. A circular blue light pulsed out across the surface of the stone, and Guinevere lurched backward to Merlin’s chest. He fell against me from the force, and even I had trouble remaining upright. The only thing preventing us ending up as a crumpled heap was the thought of Amanda crushed under all our weight.

“No.” Guinevere fell to her knees and crawled to the wall. Excalibur screeched along the stones beside her. “No. It didn’t work. Why didn’t it work?”

Her desperation gave me no comfort, and neither did Amanda’s whimpered sobs. The ground swayed beneath my feet when I turned to embrace her, yet no one else seemed affected by it—another hallucination. Panic roared up, and my heart pounded as though a jackhammer went to work on my ribs. The air in the cave was quickly turning stale. I thought I caught the scent of burning coal. My mind was playing tricks.

Merlin perched himself on a nearby boulder, picking at threads on his sleeve and mumbling something about the mountain releasing us.

Guinevere rubbed her palm all over the wall, drawing back with blood dripping from her fingertips. “I don’t understand,” she wailed.

I squinted in her direction and the blood disappeared. “This is not good,” I said flatly.

“You think?” Amanda snapped. Her entire body vibrated to the point I could have sworn it hummed.

I steadied her to the best of my ability in my current state. My own body felt alien, my limbs clumsy and awkward. It had never occurred to me how I had gotten used to the grace, agility, and strength that came with my transition. I wouldn’t take it for granted ever again.

“What was that?” Guinevere’s head snapped in the direction we had come.