“Let me know if you ever want to train,” Jordan said with slight awe. “You have a gift.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Gwen was chewing on a few choice words. She held up an accusing finger, and Ari had the urge to kiss it. “The next time you goad me about being dramatic, I’m going to say, Remember the M? And you’re going to apologize and kiss me like the universe is ending.”
Ari’s arm muscles pulled, a flash of nerves and desire that made it hard to drop Excalibur into the sheath at her back. “And what if the universe is actually ending?”
Then, from across the city, the entire planet started eerily chanting Merlin’s name.
“Merlin. Merlin. Merlin.”
The crowd kept flinging Merlin’s name at him, and not in a nice way. It cut into him, mocked him with a few millennia worth of regrets.
“Stop,” he mumbled. “Please.”
“MER-LIN.”
Morgana smirked, her bony, bluish hands levitating to increase the intensity of the cheer. She twisted her hands, curled her fingers, and closed them, cutting the crowd off like she was strangling air from hundreds of throats. Everyone from small children to Mercer associates in white suits stood rapt, mouths slightly parted.
Granted, an open courtyard in the heart of Mercer country wasn’t the best place for a magic battle, but he was making do. He would not let Morgana get to Ari. He would exhaust her cruel, cold magic on himself, if he had to. That was the plan. It was a terrible plan.
Merlin stumbled to one knee, shaking. He braced his head with his palm and closed his eyes… falling back to earlier that day, when he’d promised Ari he would keep her friends safe. He’d watched her walk away, striding after Gweneviere, as he filled with foolish hope that things would be different this time. That he truly was one of this band.
The hope was faraway now, a hazy thing he could no longer touch.
How had he gotten here? Leveled by Morgana… on purpose?
After parting from Ari, Merlin had followed the boys and Lam deep into Troy and found Mercer’s influence smeared across the planet-wide city like white blood. The associates who wore bleached suits and blank features were the least of it. Every store was overstocked with Mercer products. Merlin wondered how anyone could breathe, and yet he also remembered the start of this. By the last cycle, heaps of goods and sundries had been considered necessary to life in almost every nation on Earth. Merlin had drawn the line at loofahs. They were puffy yet abrasive. No matter how many centuries he’d strolled through, he couldn’t quite understand the appeal of needing to own everything.
“How are so many people shopping in the middle of the day?” Merlin asked. “Don’t they have work? Families to tend to?” The people in the lines looked edgy, nervous, as they studied the contents of their carts and baskets.
“The government on Troy gives everyone shopping breaks,” Val said in a gruff voice that Merlin was not acquainted with.
“That’s… thoughtful?” Merlin tried.
Val shook his head and whispered in a way that tugged Merlin closer. “They put a quota on how much a person needs to buy from Mercer every day if they want to stay on Troy. Anyone who doesn’t meet the quota gets shipped to a much less livable planet. Anyone who runs out of money gets kicked off, too. It didn’t used to be this bad, but when the Ketchans disappeared behind the barrier and took the last of the resistance with them, Mercer took it as their cue to ramp things up.”
Merlin noticed someone at the front of a line whose basket must have been too skimpy. They were escorted away by Mercer associates, as everyone around them rushed from the scene. “Why isn’t anyone speaking up? Stopping this?” Merlin asked, piping and reedy in a way that would have been mortifying if he wasn’t so outraged.
“They’d get sent away for being agitators, of course,” Val said, hooking his arm through Merlin’s to keep them together in the pushing, hard-breathing crowd. “Did I mention that Mercer assigns a lifetime’s worth of debt when they ship you off-planet? Transportation fees.”
Merlin’s magic prickled inside his hands, as if each finger was tipped with a stinger. He hummed a tuneless song—no time for pretty melodies—and blasted the Mercer associates holding the shopper. They flew backward, landing in a fountain with an impressive splash as the shopper ran off.
Would Ari be proud of him for doing that, or upset that he’d put her friends in danger by possibly drawing attention to them? Wheeling away, Merlin did his best to look like an innocent Trojan instead of an agitator. But oh, how he wanted to agitate.
Merlin went back to the promise of the cycle. Ari was in the galactic state department right now, being officially declared Gwen’s consort. That was as close to a king as Merlin had gotten in a dozen cycles. There had been a civil rights leader, a president, a rock star—all kings in their own way. Soon Ari would be cosmic royalty, which meant the next step was coming, head-on.
Defeat the greatest evil in the universe.
Mercer.
“Hey, guys!” Lam cried, as they passed a food stall that emitted a sweet warm smell like melted heaven. “They have a Honeybun.”
Merlin was starving, and his feet hooked him around to the end of the line with very little input from his brain. Two maple cream donuts later, he had slightly revised his stance on Troy. People did need to eat more than dehydrated packets of space food, after all. Could he still think Mercer’s influence was corrupt and oppressive while licking sugar off of his fingers?
Yes. Yes, he could.
“I can’t believe you eat this stuff,” Val said, tugging at Merlin, who had already gotten in line for another dozen to bring back to the ship. “It was Lam’s favorite on Pluto, and we didn’t have much of anything there, but still.”
Merlin’s curiosity prickled. Val had asked so many questions about Merlin back on Error, and now he wanted to pose as many in return. What had his childhood been like? Pluto sounded like a hardscrabble planet, although Val had a sense of beauty and refinement Merlin found rare in any time and place. Val also had a way of rubbing at the back of his shaved head when he was worked up over something, showing off the lines of his neck where it shaded into his slim but strong shoulders, and then…
A sickly, electric rush flowed through Merlin’s body.
Not hormones this time.
He had walked straight through Morgana.
“You really don’t notice what is right in front of your face,” she said with a low laugh that hit Merlin’s spine like a crackle of static. She looked out of place in the daylight, but no one else seemed to notice the ancient enchantress on their commutes. People flowed around her as if she wasn’t there at all.
Merlin sighed. “It was only a matter of time before you found me.”
Morgana’s forehead might not have been covered in real skin, but it could still knot with disappointment. “That’s what lazy people say. Time heals all wounds. These things take time. It’s only a matter of… time. You and I have been here long enough to know that’s not true. Wounds fester, and time changes nothing.”
Merlin would never admit it to Morgana, but she was right. Troy, for instance, might look and taste and feel like the future, but this was just a new kind of Dark Age. The path humans took through time was less the mythical arrow of progress, and more of a squiggle that doubled back on itself, curling and looping. A roller coaster designed by a drunkard.
If things truly got better, Morgana couldn’t have given him a head full of the terrible happenings since the last Arthur. His brain served them up in king-size portions. Rampant fire. Choking floods. Clouds that smeared the sky with toxins. People trampling over each other to leave Earth, and then scattering so far and wide they could no longer help each other without a company like Mercer sliding in to fill the void.
This was why people needed Arthur.
“Are you two old friends?” Lam asked, stepping forward with interest.
She gave them a smile she had honed to a blade over the centuri
es. “I hate Merlin with the venom of an adder, the rage of a forest fire, and the vigor of a woman making love.”
“So… no,” Lam said. They stepped back, tugging Val and Kay.
“Go,” Merlin said, flinging a hand to send the knights toward Ari, and safety. “Leave Morgana to me.”
“I’d rather have them stay,” Morgana said, and the words were like concrete pouring around the ankles of Val and Lam and Kay, sticking them in place.
“What the hell?” Kay asked.
“It’s mind magic,” Merlin barked.
“Really? It feels pretty damn physical to me.”
“Don’t worry, meaty little mortal. You have your own will,” Morgana said, advancing toward Kay one step at a time. “It’s what I’m using against you. Brute force will only get a person—a government, a company—so far. Dig an inch below the surface, and you discover what someone wants, which can be used to nudge them.”
Morgana trailed her non-fingers along Kay’s arm, and he shuddered as the air released a slight crackle. “The greatest power is a hand on your shoulder, a whisper in your head, gentle but insistent. These people don’t want to see what’s happening, so they don’t see it. You don’t want to find out what will happen if you threaten me, and that makes it easy to ensure you won’t take a single step closer.”
Morgana swiveled back to Merlin. Those pale lips, not dead, not alive, made him want to retch. “This isn’t the whole party, is it? Where is your precious Ari?”
“You will stay away from her,” Merlin nearly yelled.
Morgana chuckled. “Always trying to tell people where to go, what to do, what their destinies are.” Merlin’s anger pitched him forward, just as Morgana touched Lam’s brow, making them writhe. “Where is she?”
Lam’s eyes and mouth burst wide open, as if they were shouting without speech. “The Galactic State Department?” Morgana asked, reading their thoughts. “That way?”
Lam slumped to the ground, long limbs releasing as unconsciousness dropped over them. Kay and Val cried out, still frozen to the spot, while Morgana strode in the direction Ari had gone, ready to torture her.
Merlin couldn’t let that happen to another Arthur.
He couldn’t let it happen to Ari, who had caught him when he was nearly claimed by the blackness of space.
Merlin hummed a song from the climactic scene of his favorite boxing movie—this was going to be a magical showdown, wasn’t it?—and picked up items from the nearest store, tossing them through the air, creating a whirlpool of goods. He threw them in Morgana’s path. It wasn’t much, but it stole her attention away from her purpose. He would make himself a nuisance. He would get her to fight him, exhaust her magic before she could get to Ari.
Morgana spun on a heel, hissing at him. Merlin almost cheered at how predictable her hatred was. Now he needed to keep her contained. He grabbed boxes and carts with his magic, trying to wall her in, but she strode through everything, her shimmering form emerging in front of each new obstacle.
Their fight was growing more obvious by the second to the people around him. Merlin needed to draw them in, to use them as Morgana’s cage. He’d seen her avoid passing through people whenever she could, as if it left her with a bad aftertaste of humanity.
“What draws crowds?” Merlin shouted to Val and Kay, both still stuck in place.
“Music?” Kay suggested.
“Fireworks,” Val shouted.
Merlin snapped his fingers in agreement. A tune by an old songstress known as Katy Perry fizzled to his lips. Fireworks exploded in the sky, red and yellow and green, causing everyone to gather around, looking up.
Merlin’s smugness lasted only as long as it took to hear Morgana’s laugh. It was as wispy as the rest of her, drizzling like cold rain. “How do you think Ari liked your little display?” she asked. “If she’s as good an Arthur as you seem to think—and oh, yes, I can tell you like this one—she should come running.”
Merlin faltered. His hands dropped to his sides. Of course Ari would come if she saw a show of Merlin’s magic exploding across the city. Merlin’s plan had been to distract Morgana with a battle. Instead, she had used his magic for her own purposes.
And now the crowd was chanting his name in a way that echoed through the unnatural city, calling out to Ari, no doubt.
“Merlin. Merlin. Merlin.”
Morgana was barely expending magic with her paltry puppet tricks. He needed to get close. Let her poison him. Only, he was shaking. Afraid. And so tired…
“Leave him alone!” Val’s arms wrapped around Merlin’s chest, stunning him with closeness, tenderness.
Morgana swiveled, making Merlin’s guts pinch. “Protective, are we? But you don’t even know Merlin. I have the long view of his life, and I promise you, it’s not pretty.” She took a step forward and raised her fingers. “I can show you, if you like.”
Val’s face flared with worry and—was that curiosity?
Sickly fear sloshed through Merlin. He didn’t want Val to have a box seat to his worst moments. But more than that, he didn’t want Morgana to have power over his friends, like she’d always had over him. He filled both of his hands with green fireballs and tossed them at Morgana’s feet.
She shook her head, like Merlin was both a silly child and a useless old man. “Have you forgotten our eternal stalemate, Merlin? Your magic can’t hurt me, and unfortunately mine can’t kill you.” She walked toward Merlin at a stately pace, dripping with confidence like some women dripped with diamonds. He did have to give her points for that. She could have all the points she wanted, as long as she didn’t win.
“Always so certain you’re going to slither past me, Morgana,” Merlin said.
“I have, several times,” she said. “Or do you not remember your dead heroes? Do you let them fade as you go on forever, caring for no one but yourself?”
Morgana was so close now that he could see the unnatural smoothness of her skin, all the places where lines should have cracked her ancient face. “Are you going to paralyze me with what happened when I was asleep again?” Merlin asked. “It’s not my fault you stay perpetually awake. You should invest in a good cave.”
Ire scratched Morgana’s face. Merlin had gotten under her icy demeanor, and it felt addictively good. “I don’t need to show you that pain again,” she spat. “Let’s find something that really hurts. Let’s visit the ways you’ve failed my brother in every lifetime, shall we?”
“This is ridiculous,” Kay said, pushing between the two of them, his burly arms casting Merlin back toward Val. “She’s not even human. How much can she actually do to us?”
Morgana was upon him in a second, a lightning strike of a woman, fast enough to give the crowd whiplash. She pressed Kay’s chest, and he crumbled like a handful of ash. He was on the ground, rolling and shouting, speaking in tongues. The only thing that Merlin could pick out was Ari’s name… until Kay fell silent.
And Lam was still down a few yards away.
Merlin had promised Ari none of her friends would come to harm. How had he failed so fast? He kept his body between Morgana and Val, arms spread wide. “Stop pestering mortals and give yourself a challenge,” Merlin taunted, his throat dry.
Morgana smiled at the invitation. Merlin knew she couldn’t drive him into the grave like she could with his Arthurs. But she could make him hurt as deeply as possible. That should have been Merlin’s motto for his role in the cycle—all of the pain, none of the death.
Morgana brushed her fingers over Merlin’s cheek, sending a shower of needles through his skin, stabbing deeper until it reached his mind. He tried to catch a glimpse of Lam and Kay. To determine if Val was safe. To make sure that Ari was far away. But Morgana pressed a thumb to his forehead, the singe of her laugh following him into a vision.
He saw the Arthurs that Morgana had killed, the memories stacked high. Arthur 9, driven to insanity. Arthur 23, suicide. Arthur 35, reduced to frantic babbling about how a dark-haired sorceress haunted
his dreams.
When the pictures faded, Morgana was smiling at him. Merlin could see through her face, his focus wavering in and out. She ran her fingers down his arm, leaving trails of white-hot pain. His vision went blank, replaced by the cruelest memory.
His lover’s face so near it blurred his features, all except those bright brown eyes. The rush of Art’s kiss, the welcoming darkness. And then Merlin was pushing Art away, saying, “We can’t do this forever,” meaning those words quite literally. When Art tried to argue, to kiss him again, when he broke down and cried, Merlin tightened his jaw and lectured on all the reasons they wouldn’t work. He made himself sound wise, when all he truly felt was fear.
Merlin came out of that one lying on the ground, unable to tell if the bruising he felt was on the inside or out. He pushed up to his elbows. While he’d been stuck in his own head, Morgana had had plenty of time to cast Val to the ground, all three knights glassy-eyed. And there was more. She’d taken out the people around them, every last one.
Morgana had struck down Merlin’s human shield.
“Merlin!” Ari’s voice brightened the courtyard.
“No,” he croaked, but his voice, like his heart, was in tatters. “Don’t…” Merlin breathed hard. He didn’t need Morgana’s touch to unlock any more of his memories. She’d thrown the doors wide. Now he saw a castle in a chilled northern country that no longer existed, Arthur 12 listening as Merlin used visions of the future to help guide him. But it hadn’t worked; he blamed Merlin for his heartbreak over Gweneviere and ran him through with Excalibur. It was the only time one of his Arthurs had tried to kill him.
Then that blistering day in a country far too hot for his robes, when Merlin grew so desperate to leave the cycle that he tossed himself off a cliff—only to wake up with seventeen broken bones and the rest of cycle 20 to finish.
Once & Future Page 12
