by Steve McHugh
“Educated guess. How is Felix?”
“No idea. Hopefully hidden by now.”
“You know Merlin won’t like that.”
“Merlin is about to learn a few things he might not like,” I said, angry that Elaine was telling me something I already knew. “He can add it to the list.”
Elaine placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed slightly. “Look, I know that you’re angry with Merlin. He used the souls taken by the Reavers to feed Arthur, but getting into a confrontation with him won’t help.”
I told her about the Harbinger trials.
Elaine sat back and placed a finger over her lips and appeared to ponder the correct response. “You have evidence?”
I removed a piece of paper from my coat pocket and passed it over to her. It was the same paper I’d found in Felix’s basement.
“I’d heard rumors about you being taken to the trials as a young boy.”
“You knew?” I snapped.
“Not with certainty.”
“You should have told me.”
“With no evidence? You’d have gone to Merlin, who would have denied everything, and probably gotten Felix killed centuries ago. You still have no concrete proof about what you were involved in.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Felix himself told me about his part in what happened. I’m going to see what Merlin has to say about it.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed then.”
“I’m not planning on dying, Elaine. I plan on getting out of him whatever he did. I plan on stopping his lies. I plan on getting him to stop using the Reavers. By the way, Fiona will be back soon with a list of Reaver names. The Reavers need to be no more.”
“Once I’ve seen the evidence, the Reavers will be dealt with, I can promise you that. With evidence, Avalon won’t be able to stop their destruction.” Elaine paused for a moment. “What are you going to do if he won’t back down?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m going to say. But I need to confront him. I need to hear it from his own lips. Then I’ll decide.”
“Don’t do anything rash, Nathan. You’ve not seen him in person for many years. He might not be the man you once knew and looked up to.”
The carriage stopped and I opened the door. “Then that makes two of us.” I stepped out into the cold night. “You can wait if you wish.”
“I do.”
“You understand why I have to do this.”
“I do. That does not mean I have to like it. The repercussions could be immense.”
“I know,” I agreed. “But I can’t pretend anymore. There need to be answers, and I will get them.”
“Do not push him too far. He is a man to fear.”
“Yes, well in the mood I’m in, he should be afraid of me.”
Elaine suddenly appeared even more melancholy. “That’s the problem, Nathan, he always has been.”
Merlin’s home was a massive castle, with five floors—as well as an underground complex—and dozens of staff. When your house has an east and west wing, you know it can comfortably be described as too big for one person.
It hadn’t changed much since I’d last been here; there were still guards to let me into the property, and more guards inside who watched me as I walked through the drafty hallway to the rear of the building, the main entrance to the complex below. There were half a dozen secret passageways—that I knew off—which were dotted around the castle, although I doubted that even Merlin was able to keep track of them all.
Several members of staff said hello, but most saw my arrival and went back to whatever they were doing. In addition to enough guards to defend a small country, Merlin’s paladins also lived in the castle. And there wasn’t a single one of those I wanted to bump into. They were fanatical in their commitment to Merlin, and more than a little difficult to be around because of it.
I turned a corner and complained inwardly. A paladin stood in front of the entrance to Merlin’s complex.
“Stop,” the paladin said, raising his hand as if that was all that could possibly be needed. You could have scraped the arrogance off him, it shone even brighter than his mirror-like armor.
“I’m here to see Merlin,” I told him.
“Identify yourself.”
I took a breath, reminding myself that they were only doing a job. “Nathan Garrett.”
The paladin didn’t even seem to register that I’d said anything.
“You’re not wearing a helm, and your hair is short, so maybe you’re just deaf and there’s nothing in your ears. My name is Nathan Garrett, please let me through.”
“I don’t think I shall be doing that. You should leave.”
“Can you move out of the way?”
His hand dropped to the hilt of his broadsword, which sat on his hip. “Do not make me ask again.”
“If you draw that sword, I’m going to make you eat it,” I said, my anger creeping up. “I need to see Merlin.”
“And I told you no. Merlin is not accepting visitors. You may leave.”
I took a step toward him, and he removed part of the blade from its scabbard.
“Enough,” a man shouted as he walked toward us.
The paladin dropped to one knee as if on command. “My Lord Gawain, Merlin has forbid anyone from entry.”
“Do you really think that includes his right-hand man?” Gawain asked. “Move aside and open the door, or I shall move you.”
The paladin slinked aside and Gawain opened the door for me, motioning for me to enter. I did so without glancing at the paladin, there was no point in rubbing in his defeat.
“Thank you,” I said as we descended the long, winding staircase, my words echoing all around us.
“I could hardly allow you to fight one of my paladins. What’s so important anyway? It’s been a very long time since your last visit, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us.”
Gawain was an honest man, someone who always tried to do the right thing, no matter the consequences. The only problem was his unwavering loyalty to Merlin. If I’d told him what had happened, he would have said I was mistaken, or lied, or anything so his precious bubble of a life wasn’t disturbed. Lancelot, one of his closest friends, had betrayed Arthur, and by extension Merlin and Avalon, and then Mordred, his own brother, had done the exact same thing, but on an even worse scale. Since then, Gawain was about as loyal to Merlin and Avalon as any one man could possibly be. He’d been given command of the paladins and while he pretended he was still the fun-loving man I’d known centuries ago, he had no sense of humor when it came to Arthur or Merlin.
“Not quite, old friend,” I said with as much cheer as I could manage. “What is Merlin doing that’s so important?”
“Reading, I imagine. He spends most of his time involved in books these days, trying to undo my brother’s curse.” Anger radiated from him. Gawain wasn’t fond of talking about his brother. An understandable consequence of being related to Mordred.
We reached the bottom of the stairs and I walked through the torch-lit cavern that led to Merlin’s chambers. There were three main rooms, two of which belonged to Merlin as his living space, although as we walked past them—both with their doors open—there appeared to be more paper, books, and various writing implements than actual living space.
We reached the double doors that signified the final room, and Gawain pushed them open. Inside was a big enough space to have contained four houses. It was a massive structure with a walkway high above me where half a dozen paladins stood, all watching the floor below. I knew from experience that there were doors up there that led to chambers for the paladins to rest and make their way back to the main house above.
As one the paladins all turned toward Gawain and me. I could feel their eyes boring into me as we walked across the marble floor. I took two steps and stopped. In the center of the room was something that resembled a gigantic aquarium; it was ten feet long and completely cylindrical in shape.
Various tubes and devices were attached to the outside of the tank, which was also littered with runes that glowed a deep red. The water-like substance inside was crystal clear, allowing me to see the occupant. Arthur.
I walked over to the aquarium, ignoring the gazes from above and placed my hand against its cool glass. Arthur floated in the water-like substance that was inside it. I’d never discovered what exactly it was; Merlin wouldn’t reveal his method of creating it. My best guess was that it was normal water modified by the use of runes. It was slightly denser than normal water, although it still behaved in the same way.
Arthur was still clean-shaven, and his hair was exactly the same shoulder-length chestnut color it had been when he’d been lowered into the tank. The substance kept him in a sort of suspended state. He looked dead. The wound to his chest where Mordred had plunged the cursed blade of his sword was still raw and discolored. Now Arthur was barely alive. Using the souls of innocent people to feed on.
“I wondered if you’d ever come back,” Merlin said from behind me.
“Get everyone out of here,” I said, barely keeping my anger in check. “We need to talk.”
“Do you forget who you’re talking to?” His voice contained more amusement than anger, but a moment later I heard Gawain ask if everything was okay and then footsteps above as the paladins returned to their quarters.
“Now, why don’t you turn around and talk to me like a man?”
I did as was asked and saw Merlin in the flesh for the first time in countless years. The old stories were just that. They painted Merlin as an elderly man with flowing white hair, carrying a big staff that doubled as a wand. Merlin did not look elderly, he appeared to be in his mid to late forties, but was actually about five thousand years older than that. He did have long white hair, that much was true, although his hair had always been that color as long as I could remember. He’d grown a beard since I’d last seen him, which was short and neat. Merlin was a few inches taller than me, and considerably less bulky, but I knew the strength that lay under his expensive suit. He was not a man to be taken lightly.
“You’re feeding Arthur the souls of the murdered,” I said, keeping my rage in check. Getting angry would achieve nothing.
“Don’t be overly dramatic. Arthur is fed the souls of those we vanquish. It keeps him alive much better than magic.”
“You don’t know, do you? You sit in here and give orders, but never actually bother to learn what happens when those orders are carried out. You told the Reavers to collect souls for Arthur? Well, they’ve been doing that, they’ve been murdering people, innocent people, in London.”
“No one in London is innocent, it’s a cesspool of corruption and vice.”
I snapped. “Fuck you, Merlin. I’ve just spent the last few days hunting down Reavers for butchering men and women and taking their souls. Human souls at that. They told me that you allowed this to happen.”
“I don’t have the luxury of asking questions. They bring the souls, I keep Arthur alive. And if you swear at me again, I shall make you regret it, Nathaniel.”
“They’re murdering people, don’t you care?”
“Not really. Humans don’t live long enough to bother me one way or another. A few less in London is hardly a cause for concern.”
“They were responsible for the Jack the Ripper murders. Their leader is a man by the name of Enfield.”
“Enfield? A valuable member of my staff.”
“He’s a murderer.”
“So are you.”
“I don’t kill for pleasure. I don’t kill for fun and games. I certainly don’t kill random innocent people.”
Merlin walked toward me. “What do you want me to do?”
“Stop the Reavers. Cease all of their operations. We need to stop them from murdering people to bring you souls.”
“Do you know how long a soul allows Arthur to live for?” Merlin placed his hand on the glass of the tank, as if stroking Arthur’s hair. “Decades. Depending on the soul. Only human souls will do for some reason, possibly a final joke by Mordred. He would never expect us to kill humans so that Arthur could live. But I will do whatever I must.”
“You allow them to kill humans?”
“Allow? I don’t allow them to do anything. I leave it in their capable hands and they bring me what I want. I don’t care where they get them from, so long as they do.”
“This will be your last shipment, I’ve destroyed every vessel I could find.”
Merlin rounded on me with rage in his eyes. “You utter fucking idiot. Do you understand what you’ve done? You’ve condemned Arthur to die.”
“He’s already dead, or he may as well be,” I shouted, slamming my hand on the tank. “Look at him, he’s not spoken or moved in over a millennium.”
The blast of water hit me in the chest, lifted me from my feet, and dumped me several feet away. “Don’t ever touch this tank again. It is the only thing keeping your king alive. Do you understand me?”
I got back to my feet. “You’re allowing the murder of innocent humans to keep a dead man alive. You have to stop.”
“Have to? Do you hear yourself ? I don’t have to do anything. I’m keeping Arthur alive, and that’s all there is to it. If I have to harvest the souls of every single human in England, I will. As for the Reavers taking the lives of the innocent, and killing for pleasure. You killed the men responsible for your wife’s murder, you took pleasure in it. You murdered countless hundreds over the years in the name of Avalon, and some just because they were in your way. Do you think none of those I sent you after were innocent?”
The memory of finding my wife’s body flashed to the front of my mind, bringing with it a cool rage. “What?” I said through gritted teeth, unwilling to trust myself to say more.
“Do you really believe that I only sent you after the wicked, the evil? I sent you to kill those who needed killing. If they didn’t have an evil life story, I made one up. Told you what you needed to hear.”
I was dumbfounded. “You’ve lied to me my whole life,” I said eventually. “You put me through the Harbinger trials at thirteen, and now you tell me that you had me kill innocent people for you?”
“Only a few times. You were always fine with taking the lives of those who deserved it, but I have other . . . tools that will kill without their conscience getting in the way. Eventually I just had you do whatever you pleased. It was easier that way, and it kept you away from me and my plans. Yes, I lied to you, yes I put you through the Harbinger trials, but those trials made you a better person, a more capable person. And those lies were so you’d do what you needed to. So what’s your point? Would you like to sit there and cry about it?
“You come here, with your anger and your self-righteousness. Where was that self-righteousness when you went to America and slaughtered people? Where was it when you tortured people for information, when you threatened and killed?”
I got back to my feet, rage almost burning through me.
“I do what needs to be done. As do you. But I don’t have the luxury of crying over it. I always thought you were able to put aside your emotions to do what was necessary, apparently I’m wrong. You were Merlin’s assassin, killing people who needed to be killed, and then you took the Hellequin name, and you were feared. People fell into line without you having to do anything. All of that was possible because of who you are, because of what I made you. And those Harbinger trials did that. And if you think I’m going to stop having the Reavers kill whomever they choose in my quest to heal your king, you’re out of your damn mind.”
I punched him. It contained my rage and anger, my hurt at being lied to, and my frustration at how far Merlin had slipped. It was powerful enough to knock Merlin onto his ass, and for a second I thought, this is it, this is where he tries to kill me.
“Stop,” Gawain shouted as he sprinted in between us. “Just stop, before this goes further.”
“What are you thinking?” Gawain asked me, and then turned
to Merlin. “And is what he said true? Are we killing innocents to keep Arthur alive?”
Merlin got to his feet, ignoring Gawain and stepping up toward me. “That’s the one and only shot you get. Now go do your job. Leave, and don’t come back for a few more centuries.”
“No,” I said softly. “I’m done with you, Merlin. I’m finished. I don’t want to work with you, or for you, or even know that what I’m doing is helping you. I’m no longer in your employ.”
“You can’t just quit.”
“I can. And you can’t stop me. Not unless you’re going to kill me. Are you going to kill me?”
Merlin stared a hole through me, and then turned to Gawain. “Get this . . . gentleman out of my sight.” He turned back to me. “You will never sully my home with your presence again.”
“What about the souls?” Gawain asked.
“What about them?” Merlin snapped. “This man won’t accept what we need to do to keep Arthur alive. Once you’ve removed him from this place, return to me and I’ll explain it to you. Goodbye, Nathaniel Garrett.”
“Go fuck yourself, Merlin.”
I turned and walked away, fully aware that Merlin wanted to carry out his threat after I swore at him the first time. Gawain was behind me in an instant, a shield between Merlin and me.
We walked in silence until we reached the front door.
“Don’t come back, Nathaniel,” Gawain said. “Not for a very long time.”
“He’s not the man I thought he was. He’s twisted, and on a dark and dangerous path.”
“Then we will have to continue to shine brighter than ever so he can find his way. It’s a shame you don’t understand that. Good-bye.”
He closed the door and I made my way back to the coach and Elaine. I knew that Gawain would go back to Merlin, who would twist his actions to make it look like he was a hero, doing what was needed. And Gawain would accept it. He couldn’t bear to think that Merlin might be wrong. It would be his downfall one day.
“So how did that go?” Elaine asked as I climbed back in.
“I’m done here.”
“You finally left Merlin’s employ? I guess we’ll need to find you something else to do.”
