The Iron Seal

by J. M. Briggs

  Merlin and Morgana hadn’t forgotten. The pair of mages trained him in magic, telling him a bit about previous battles they had faced and the importance of magic to the realm. Nothing helped. He had yet to conjure even the smallest spark. To his surprise, it was Merlin who was growing impatient with him while Morgana remained calm and gently encouraged him to try again. Slavko tried to watch as much of the lessons as he could around his chores. Dobiemir felt it was a shame that his son did not have such power. Then again, if Slavko had that power, then Merlin and Morgana would wish for him to fight that creature in the cave.

  Stepping out of his home and into the morning air, Dobiemir stretched and looked around. The sun was creeping above the horizon and he could hear the animals waking. Looking around, he spotted Morgana walking down the trail that she and Merlin had worn from their small earthen hut to his own home.

  “Good morning,” she greeted. A yawn escaped her and Morgana glared at the rising sun for a moment. “Merlin has gone to check the perimeter of the forest.”

  “Alone?”

  “He was confident in his ability to flee should a Shadow appear,” Morgana assured him. “Though, I do get the sense that he’d like to give that ice idea a try.”

  “But you don’t want to go into the forest yet?”

  “We hope that the Old Ones will come soon,” Morgana said. “Merlin and I… we don’t dare go alone again. That thing would be ready for us.”

  “Strength in numbers,” Dobiemir said thoughtfully. He nodded in agreement. “That might be the key.”

  “Yes, but I worry why none of the Shadows have returned.” Morgana toyed with her necklace and glared up into the hills. “Did he learn what he wanted to know? Is he gathering strength?”

  “Maybe it left,” Dobiemir suggested.

  Turning to look at him, Morgana raised an eyebrow and smiled in amusement. “Do you believe that, Dobiemir?”

  “No.” Looking down at the ground, he couldn’t help but notice that there was still a strange chill clinging to the soil. “I know it’s still nearby.”

  “Yes,” Morgana said. “It’s far enough away and keeping the Shadows near it that the land is not suffering as much, but it is still suffering. I believe that it is merely preparing defenses. As much as I want to confront it… Merlin and I will need help.”

  “What… is there anything else I can do?” Dobiemir looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry that I’m not very good with magic.”

  “You’re a farmer at your core,” Morgana said. “A provider and a father.” Something in her tone was warm, almost wistful. “There is nothing wrong with being that. But your desire to remain only that holds you back.” He lowered his eyes and Morgana was silent for a moment. “You are not the first mage that Merlin and I have trained. There have been many at this point. Problems such as this… somehow, there is almost always a mage nearby waiting for our guidance. The Iron Realm is strong and seeks to protect itself.”

  “It sounds alive.”

  “There is some kind of awareness behind it all,” Morgana agreed. “But beyond that, I cannot say for sure what it all means. Merlin and I were born or created differently than other mages so that we can continue to train other mages and lead the fight. Some of the Old Ones have a fragile bond with the Iron Realm, but even that is beyond words to properly explain.”

  “What if I can’t use my magic to help?”

  “Then hopefully some Old Ones will aid us,” Morgana said. “Before this mad Old One grows too strong.”

  Dobiemir didn’t like that answer. It felt too weak, too dangerous. Swallowing, he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Morgana had told him about the spark of magic he could find within himself. She’d described it in several different ways, but thus far none of it had helped. Perhaps she was right about him. Maybe at the heart of things, he didn’t want this power. He just wanted to look after his farm and keep his one surviving child alive. There was nothing wrong with that, but he needed to be more.

  “Do not punish yourself,” Morgana said. “Besides, Merlin is building the forge. Maybe working with iron will help you connect with the Iron Realm. If nothing else, it will be a valuable skill for you.” She smiled. “And once this is over, you will have the benefit of a forge on your land, and Merlin and I’s little stone hut.”

  “It would make for a good place to store food,” Dobiemir agreed. “If I dug it down a little more, that would make it even better.”

  “Good; make plans for when this is over,” Morgana said. “But for now, close your eyes and try to connect with your magic.”

  Rather than arguing or poking at more things that he didn’t understand, Dobiemir nodded and closed his eyes. The sunshine was still warm on his skin, but the conversation had dulled his enjoyment of it. It wasn’t difficult to slip into the dim awareness that Morgana had guided him towards. In his chest he could feel something, but it remained out of reach.

  After a little longer he gave up. Morgana didn’t argue with him. Instead, she just nodded to him and watched as he went off to join his son. Slavko was in a talkative mood. He frequently was nowadays. They fixed up the yard fence for the animals, and he examined the crops that his son had harvested in the coolness of the morning. The routine was comforting, even as Slavko asked questions that he didn’t have an answer for.

  “Father!” Slavko jumped up from where he’d been kneeling and pointed off down the road. “Look!”

  Turning quickly, Dobiemir braced himself for an attack. But there were no Shadows. The sun remained shining, and instead he saw three figures walking up the road. None of them were familiar. There was an old man in a gray cloak who was using a walking stick. His companions flanked him on either side. One a man a little younger than him and a young woman.

  “Slavko, go get Morgana,” he said. Something about the three of them tugged at his instincts. In the light of the sun, they were a little too bright. “Hurry.”

  “Who are they, Father?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said honestly. “Now go.”

  The trio kept coming towards him as his son dashed off to fetch the mages. Nothing in their posture was hostile, and for a moment he thought that they might continue past. But the old man stopped and turned towards his house and farm with a thoughtful look.

  “This is the place,” he said. “There is a great deal of magic in the air.”

  “Hello,” the woman greeted. “I am Sif. This is my father Odin and my brother Baldr.” She gestured to each of the men in turn, the older one being identified as Odin and the younger as Baldr.

  “Hello.” He swallowed, suddenly aware of sweat gathering on the back of his neck. What was he supposed to say or do right now?

  “Are Merlin and Morgana near?” Odin asked.

  “Morgana is,” he answered. His voice squeaked a little. “My son just went to fetch her. Uh, Merlin should be back soon.”

  “Thank you,” Odin said.

  Sif was a tall woman with golden hair hanging over one shoulder. A glow beneath her skin marked her as something else. She wasn’t human, and neither were her companions. The old looking man had only one eye and wore a gray hat and cloak. Dobiemir thought he’d heard stories of a god like that. The younger man bore a strong resemblance to Sif with golden hair, bright eyes, and a face too clean and free of scaring to be human.

  The sound of people moving behind him was a relief as they stared at each other. Looking over his shoulder, Dobiemir was grateful to find not only Morgana coming, but Merlin rushing along beside her. Merlin looked a little out of breath. He must have just returned when Slavko fetched Morgana.

  “Odin,” Merlin greeted with a nod. “Thank you for coming.” Then with a slight smile, he turned and gestured towards Dobiemir. “This is Dobiemir.”

  There were some looks exchanged. Silent questions were answered without anyone saying anything, and leaving Dobiemir once more in the dark. Swallowing back a protest, he reminded himself that he just wanted to return to a peaceful life. If Me
rlin and Morgana felt that keeping certain details from him would help with that, then he was going to be grateful. Slavko made a curious noise, but Dobiemir put his hand on his son’s shoulder.

  “Slavko, you have chores to do,” he said softly.

  “Aww, but I want to hear!”

  “No, go do your chores.”

  “Father-”

  “Slavko.”

  The boy huffed, but there was no fire in it. He’d be forgiven soon enough. Then his son walked towards the animal yard: very slowly, but he went. Sighing softly in relief that his son wouldn’t get any more tangled up in magic than he already was, Dobiemir looked to Merlin and found that the old mage was watching him with a smile. There was a wistful expression on Sif’s face, but she said nothing.

  “Thank you for coming,” Merlin said. “I fear that an Old One has become corrupted. They are in this area.”

  “An Old One?” Baldr asked. “You’re certain?”

  “Very,” Merlin replied. His turned cold and stern. “Nothing new has entered our world recently. Magic remains at a low level, so the conflict is limited. Yet something powerful and twisted hides in the nearby woods.”

  “Do we know who it is- was?” Sif asked.

  “We aren’t sure,” Morgana answered. “There are many local stories of deities, but a regional lord of light seems to be missing. Belobog.”

  “Belobog?” Horror filled Odin’s voice. “But he’s…”

  “Father?” Sif asked.

  “He came through with me. We were exiled at the same time. I haven’t spoken to him for some time, but we used to-” Odin shook his head. “This is distressing news. He has been in the Iron Realm a very long time. I hope that you are wrong, Morgana.”

  “If you were friends, then perhaps, he will speak with you,” Merlin said.

  “Friends is too strong a word,” Odin replied. Nonetheless, he nodded in agreement. “But I will do so. If we can reach him, then maybe we can help reverse what has happened to him?”

  “What about saving him like Shiva?” Sif asked. “You said that he had been corrupted and had an artifact?”

  “Yes,” Morgana said. “He was, and the Iron Soul Lokpal entrusted the Iron Trishula to Shiva, but I fear we’ve not been successful in contacting him.” The other Old Ones exchanged looks and Sif frowned. “The distance is… very great, and our magic is limited right now.”

  Dobiemir didn’t understand this. He’d seen the pair do amazing things and breathe life back into the land. Yet they were speaking as if their power was nothing. Merlin caught his expression, and his features softened. Reaching over, Merlin gripped his shoulder gently.

  “Magic is a force created by the intersection of two worlds that should not meet,” he said. Dobiemir’s eyes widened as he tried to make sense of the words. “There is always some magic in the world because of those who live here.” Merlin nodded at the three Old Ones, and Sif smiled at him. “But it is not at its strongest. To you, it is very impressive, but there are limits on what we can achieve. I’m not sure that I would risk traveling all the way to Shiva’s land to speak with him without more power to call upon.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” Dobiemir asked. He was almost afraid of the answer.

  “Odin, I know that you have come some distance,” Merlin said. “But if you are willing, I would prefer to examine the Old One as soon as possible. We have been giving it distance, but I fear he will only grow stronger.”

  “I agree,” Odin said. “It pains me to think of another one of us going mad, but if it has happened, then we need to address it and quickly.”

  “Father,” Sif said. “If it is Belobog then it won’t be easy to stop. He’s been here as long as you have.” No one said anything in response to Sif’s observation. Merlin and Morgana shared another worried look. “Is there a plan?” Sif asked. She glanced his way.

  “We will inspect the area,” Merlin said. “Then withdraw. There is no reason to fight today. I warn you; this Old One has created strange manifestations of its power. Shadow creatures that draw in heat and light. Baldr, you must be careful around them. All of you should be careful,” Merlin said. “We don’t know how they might affect you physically. Magic used against them does have some effect, and we believe that cold and ice may be their weakness.”

  Then, to his surprise, Morgana put a hand on his shoulder. “Will you come, Dobiemir?”

  “Me? But I can’t use magic.”

  “Not yet,” Morgana said. “But perhaps today will mark the day that you do. Besides, you are a native of the area. You know far more about Belobog than Merlin or I.”

  “I-I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “You’re a mage,” Sif said. Her voice was almost sad. “It’s your responsibility.”

  “We will keep you safe,” Morgana promised.

  “I’m not a warrior.”

  “No, but you are a mage,” Merlin said.

  Dobiemir once again had the feeling that something had been decided without him. Looking at the mages and the three new arrivals, he debated with himself for a moment. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay with his son.

  “I’m not sure what I can do.”

  No one answered him. Merlin just gave him a soft smile and nodded towards the forest. “It’s up that way. It won’t take long to reach it.”

  They started walking. Dobiemir inhaled and opened his mouth to argue. To say something. Nothing came forth. He exhaled in defeat and looked towards his home. Shaking his head and grumbling under his breath, he rushed into the small house to grab a shawl. If they were going near that thing again, then it was sure to be cold. For good measure, he grabbed a knife and secured it on his belt and picked up a leather bag. Calling out to Slavko, he promised that they’d be back soon and rushed to catch up with the others.

  “Have you heard from Cyrridven?’ Sif asked Merlin. She looked back towards him as he came up to the back of the group. “Is she coming to help?”

  “I’ve tried to summon her,” Merlin said. “But thus far, she has not responded. There has been no sharp rise in magic to wake her.”

  “Yes,” Sif agreed. “I suppose she would be asleep for a while.”

  “And what of you?” Morgana asked. There was a sharpness to her tone that made Dobiemir’s eyes widen. “I trust that you will be cautious.”

  “We will be,” Sif promised. Her lips quirked, but she didn’t seem insulted. “You may recall that we went into the waters for over a century not so long ago.”

  “I suppose that is true.”

  “It’s been eight hundred years, Morgana,” Sif said. “I wouldn’t have thought that seeing us was so distasteful.”

  “It isn’t,” Morgana replied. “I just don’t-” Morgana stopped herself and shook her head. Sif kept pace with her and briefly touched Morgana’s shoulder.

  There was history here, history he didn’t know. Again, Dobiemir considered going home. How could they think that he belonged here? Yes, he was a mage. At least that was what Morgana and Merlin believed, but he had yet to use any magic. That flicker remained out of his reach. And now there were these new beings who had known them for many years. Why was he even here? Why would the world have even bothered to create another mage like him when it already had Merlin and Morgana? There was no answer for him. He didn’t ask the question and just kept walking up the trail with the others into the hills.

  22

  Magic in the Metal

  Arthur was ahead of them. Again. Alex wanted to be surprised, but that disquieting feeling at the back of her head was resigned. He was always ahead. Arthur was a snake. No; that was unfair to snakes. He was something worse — something parasitic that ate its host from the inside out. Arto’s memories proved that. She’d hoped that in his new life Arthur was too arrogant and wild to play long games and fool them.

  They’d been wrong. She held the bronze medallion in a bandana that Nicki had retrieved for her. The others were talking around her, mostly in the kitchen
. Everyone left her alone. She hadn’t moved from the armchair since Aiden had all but dragged Aisling back to the Bosco house, and Nicki had called Merlin and Morgana. The symbols on it didn’t mean anything to her. They were vaguely familiar. She assumed they were Sídhe in origin and helped Arthur create the item.

  “Alex?” Bran called. He sat on the sofa near to her, leaning forward to peer at her. “You okay?”

  “I’m angry.”

  “I know, but-”

  ‘I’m angry at us. We keep making assumptions about him. Thinking that we know what he’ll do. We don’t. Arthur is too… changing.”

  “Mercurial,” Bran offered. “Adaptable.”

  “Yeah. I guess I thought he was a classic villain after the whole monologuing thing he did when he-” Alex cut herself off and swallowed. “Stabbed me. I’ve seen parts of his past, and I don’t understand him. What makes him tick and act the way he does.”