But where was Merlin?
Ari remembered him going down… Morgana’s prediction…
“Merlin,” Ari said, spinning back to face the Administrator. “Morgana. Where are they?”
“Your magical duo is under surveillance. We don’t quite know what they’re capable of, so best to keep them sedated. Don’t you think? We wouldn’t want anything to ruin the big day. Your victory, Ara Azar.”
Ari echoed his word as if it were her greatest crime. “Victory?”
“Indeed. You so desperately had to be alive and tell everyone about our Old Earth exploits… and our Ketchan one. Ugh. It’s been a human resources disaster.” He waved his hand. “But we’re rolling with it. Are you ready?”
“For what?”
He sighed and threw in a slight growl. “For the big event! All three Mercer galaxies are watching via our pay-per-view ceremonial channel, as well as a packed arena of a million of the most loyal Mercer customers.” He pointed toward the wall they were facing. Ari could tell now that it was a series of rolling doors, the kind that would open grandly and spit out Ari and her friends into the middle of a universe-wide televised pageant.
So that was the chattering drumming she kept hearing. A million people.
“You, Ara Azar, are about to be crowned Mercer’s king. As much as I don’t enjoy sharing the role as figurehead, we admit when allowances must be made.” His eyes moved to Gwen’s. “We’re even giving you Lionel to rule from. It’ll be restocked, a Mercer-sanctioned medieval planet, where all our customers will be encouraged to vacation. A taste of rebellion! Of hope and the past, and the one true king. Blah, blah. You know the story they’re feverish for. Give it to them.”
“Why would you do that? Why not execute me and send your message of unchallenged dominance?”
His eyes flashed with impatience. “Because martyrs kill the economy. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement. Why must we always convince you of what you need to do?” His fury lit up Ari’s nerves like a circuit board of warnings. She’d never seen him approach a snapping point, and all of a sudden, she did not want to know what that looked like. He clapped his hands once. The crowd of associates parted for a few guards bearing two bound women. Ari’s moms.
They had not been prepared for a televised ceremony. Their clothes looked unwashed, their skin sallow, their expressions dim, maybe even drugged. As if Mercer had had them for a long time. “But they were supposed to be—”
“Safe? Did someone tell you that?” He took a deep breath. “We had them tell your brother they were safe, of course. We had to keep an eye on all of you. Do you know how much we watch you all, Ara?” He laughed. “Let me demonstrate. We were watching you in that rubber knight suit in the middle ages section last year. We were watching you in that disco when you met your magician. We were watching you weep over those piles of Ketchan bones, and we saw you planning our demise. Every square inch of it. We are always watching. That’s what a good provider does. That’s how we anticipate your needs.”
He poked her with one finger on her shining suit of armor, and smiled. “See? We even knew you needed this. Doesn’t it fit perfectly?”
Ari would never admit that truth. She looked beyond him, to where her parents seemed ready to die. “So you’re going to make me do this by threatening my parents?”
The Administrator looked offended. “Oh, no. They are here to keep your brother in line. He’s been a handful. The lives of the entire population of Lionel will keep Gwen in line. And we have those two to keep each other behaving.” He flicked his fingers at Val and Lamarack. “We’ve got something on everyone. We always do.”
“And what about me?”
“Oh, you’re easy. You’d do anything for any of these people. The fact that we have them all as leverage is a bit greedy, but you’re such a family, aren’t you? We’d hate to split you up.”
Ari’s nerves tightened her stomach, her grip. “So, all I have to do is… be your king?”
The Administrator held out his hand, and an associate stepped forward to place a gaudy gold crown on it. Jeweled Mercer logos circled the band while the points rose ferociously into knife-sharp blades. A dozen of them. “Isn’t it beautiful? And quite a bit sharp.” He mimed pricking himself on one of the points, and then sucked his finger.
Ari didn’t have a chance to respond.
Kay was laughing. A hard, loud laugh that she’d heard a million times over the last ten years. The what a fucking idiot laugh.
“Kay—” she started, but the Administrator was faster. He snapped his fingers.
Two associates pulled Kay off the horse and dragged him over. He was still laughing, her dumbass brother. They released him, threw him on the ground and held his shoulders down with boots—and still Ari’s brother kept laughing. “Your entire plan revolves around my sister being able to lie? Oh, gods, you people really are morons.”
Ari surged between them, but associates dragged her backward, keeping her arms pinned out of reach of Excalibur. “Kay!” she growled. “Shut up!”
The Administrator laughed, too, a high sound to match Kay’s defiant humor. “Ridiculous! We know! But here we are.” He flipped the gaudy crown over in his hand and leaned close to Ari’s brother on the ground. Too close. “On behalf of the Mercer Company, we appreciate your role in this collaborative conquest.”
He smashed the long, dramatic points of the crown into Kay’s chest.
Kay’s mouth overflowed with red so fast he coughed instead of crying out, and Ari screamed while the Administrator gave one final shove that stole the laughter—and life—from her brother’s eyes.
Ari couldn’t move. This wasn’t happening. She stared at his shredded chest, urging herself to wake up. Wake up! She couldn’t tear her eyes away, not even as she heard the heartrending cries of her parents’ grief.
“There,” the Administrator stood. “A demonstration always smooths matters. Now we’ll have no more resistance. The show must go on, yes?”
On the other side of the sliding doors, a massive creature howled in pain and anger.
Ari closed her eyes, recognizing that call.
Big Mama.
“Now,” the Administrator said, wiping his hands on a towel. “There’s a large dragon out there who is rather furious that we filled her baby full of holes. Your first job as a Mercer employee is to entertain the masses. Go shove that beautiful sword through her thick skull. Or die trying. A fake king or a dead rebel? Both are brilliant crowd pleasers. What will it be? Honestly, the suspense is just killing us! And, Ari?”
He put a hand on her arm. His nails bit through the chain mail, and he drew her so close that his terrible, hot breath was all over her neck. “Checkmate.”
Merlin screamed, as if that would help. As if anyone in the universe could hear him.
He was suspended inside a Merlin-sized bubble in the Lady of the Lake’s deep, shining waters. Dark-blue surrounded him on all sides, as far as he could see. The sides of the bubble were slippery, and Merlin couldn’t keep his footing. He kept sliding, betrayed by the leg that Morgana had stabbed. When he could no longer move, he pinged the sides of the bubble with magic, but whatever enchantment Nin had created held up.
“Ari!” he shouted. “Ari, I’m coming!”
He was hoarse from hopeful lies. The truth was that Merlin had no idea how much time had passed since he fainted. Nin had taken him out of the story—ripped him away right at the moment when Ari needed him most.
And trapped him here.
Like last time… when King Arthur… when he…
Merlin banged and banged and banged because apparently the one thing Nin couldn’t stand was being disturbed.
“What is it now?” she asked, her voice a watery ripple moving through the lake.
“I need to leave this cursed place,” Merlin said, his heartbeat frantic.
“No, Merlin,” Nin sighed. “I’m doing this for your good. If you had unleashed your magic, Mercer would have killed you, and
I haven’t waited all this time to watch you cut down by a CEO with a blank soul and an unfortunate haircut. You’re safe here.”
Merlin snorted. Benevolence from Nin was highly suspect. The only helpful thing she’d ever done was give Arthur a sword.
“She’s a supplier of weapons,” Merlin whispered, remembering.
There had to be magical weapons around here. A few notes bobbed under Merlin’s breath as he sang about all things good and pointy. Then he watched the deep-blue water, trying not to look too eager.
A moment later, a sword sailed through the lake, deep-gray and aimed at Merlin. The bubble popped, and the inside flooded, earthy lake water rushing in. Merlin grabbed the sword as the whole thing collapsed inward.
Opening his eyes to peer through the murkiness, he swam toward the only source of light, a faint glow in the distance. All the while, the Lady of the Lake fought him with a sudden riptide, the kind that belonged in a great, salty ocean.
“Stop fighting me,” she said, her voice trembling the water. “You’re making this into a battle that it doesn’t need to be.”
Merlin kept swimming at a hard pace even though his stabbed leg sent out rays of pain. The feeling was almost unbearable, but at the same time it brought him strange comfort. It was a connection to Ari. If he was in pain, he was alive. If he was alive, there was still a chance of getting back to her.
The water churned to nearly white, tossing him viciously. He felt as if his lungs would fail, giving up before his heart did. He emerged on the underground shores of the lake, dragging himself out dripping wet, chest on fire. Merlin held up the sword he’d summoned, trying to look fierce, or at least not entirely waterlogged—and waited.
He should have felt better now that he was no longer a bubble prisoner, but this place was even worse. The light in Nin’s cave shone vaguely blue. The sounds muted, as if someone put a finger to their lips and shushed the entire world.
He’d been here before. This was the home of Merlin’s worst memory, the one he’d relived with Ari. Shame flooded him, even darker and colder than Nin’s lake.
The Lady of the Lake glimmered into being. Her outline burned gold, the rest of her body wavering like a reflection on water. “Welcome back, Merlin,” she said, her voice rippling through him like his body was a plucked string. “Are you ready to stop this childish, one-sided fight?”
He raised the sword higher, his arm weak, his body faintish with hunger. Nin had forgotten that Merlin having a body meant she needed to feed him if she was going to keep him as a magical pet, and their time together had already felt like a mad stretch of days. Anything could have happened to Ari and his friends by now. He took a step forward, even though his leg protested with throbbing pain.
“I will not let Ari die,” Merlin said, pushing out the words. “I just got her back! And I will not let Arthur down. Again.”
“What will you do instead?” she asked idly. “Kill me?”
The Lady of the Lake looked sternly at the sword in Merlin’s hands and said a few words in a language that sounded older than the water and earth around them. The sword shot out of his grip and landed in Nin’s gut as she laughed.
“Now,” she said, speaking to him while impaled, as if she’d settled their debate and hoped they could move on. “What happened to you, Merlin? I haven’t had to keep you from dying in many cycles. I thought you had mastered the art of self-preservation.” She frowned mildly. “Go back to not caring, please. It was saving me so much trouble.”
Nin’s words scratched on the door of his deepest questions. Was she the reason he couldn’t seem to die? He pushed the matter aside with a great deal of effort and focused on what he’d been torn from.
“What has become of Ari?” Merlin begged. “Let me see what’s going to happen. You’ve allowed me that much before.” Nin had given him that power the last time he was in her cave.
“I had to take your future-vision back,” she said coldly. “Some vows are older even than your magic, and I promised I wouldn’t interfere with this part of the story.” Nin studied him through eyes that were silver as mercury, except when they were blue as flame. In that moment, he saw Nin clearly—and was struck by how little she cared.
He used to be more like her. He used to be able to turn off parts of his empathy, put his soul on mute. But he couldn’t go back to that, even if he wanted to.
“Show me what I’m missing,” he demanded.
“You want to know what Ari is facing?” she asked, with a sigh as weary as time. “Fine.”
She removed the sword from her abdomen with one clean sweep. Then she stirred the air as if it were water. The rippled texture gave way to a picture of Ari in armor, in the center of a sand-filled tournament ring. She looked harried, exhausted, and she was holding Excalibur in a flagging grip as an enormous dragonlike creature circled her. Its jaws descended with a vile metallic crunch. Ari winced at a spot where the dragon’s teeth had caught her between armored plates. Blood was everywhere, darkening the sand, spilling through the vision in a way that seemed to turn the pools of water around Merlin red.
“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.”
It was happening all over again. History had doubled over on itself. Ari was going to die as he stood at Nin’s side, powerless. The picture of Ari’s battle faded, but the pain stayed with Merlin. “She needs me,” he whimpered. “We’re… friends.”
“Friends? That’s an interesting word for your relationship,” Nin mocked. “Besides, when have you ever had friends? You have Arthurs who outgrow your help. Pretending you are part of their lives will make things far more painful, Merlin. You’re just… passing through.”
Even though Merlin couldn’t see the future, he could still fear it. He imagined the horror and disgust on Val’s face when he realized that Merlin was too young for him. He saw Ari growing into her power—and leaving him behind.
Even if she lived past this day, they were doomed to lose each other. Merlin’s shaking leg gave out, and he fell to the rocks. Nin studied him with a cocked head, a finger to her perfectly formed chin. “You know, I thought watching you age backward would be more fun, but we’ve gotten to the point where it’s mostly ridiculous and mildly shameful.”
“You try being a teenager.” Merlin pushed to his feet, looking for a way out of this place, even though he doubted one existed. But if Nin had thought showing him Ari in a tournament ring would be enough to mollify him, she didn’t know him. She only knew the Old Merlin.
He hummed, warming up his magic.
Nin’s ethereal face turned slightly frantic. “If you stop being a child about all of this, I will end your backward aging.”
“You… what?”
Nin took a step closer to Merlin, closer than she’d ever been, crowding his thoughts, pushing out Ari with her all-consuming glow. Nin reached out, her bright fingers touching the wound on his leg.
It faded, just like the picture of Ari had.
“The time has come,” Nin said. “You’ve gotten close enough, and frankly I don’t want to watch this show anymore. It’s become so formulaic. The good ones always do.” Anger clawed its way into Merlin’s thoughts. All this time, through all of this tragedy, the Lady of the Lake had been watching as if his life were some cheap form of entertainment?
“You’ve watched those Arthurs die, and you did nothing?” His questions took a hard left into the personal. “You watched me kiss Art and… walk away?”
“That bit was quite sad,” she said, putting her fingers to her lips as if she still savored the memory. “Now, dear Merlin, let me return you to your parents. You’ll be done with your backward stroll through time. You won’t be alone, and you’ll never have to be a squalling infant. Everyone gets what they want.”
Her words pierced Merlin’s mind like a lance, shattering his determination to return to Ari into a thousand tiny shards.
“I have… parents?” he asked blankly. There were no parents in his memories, even the earliest ones. He’d
searched them endlessly, looking for the smallest clue of their existence. With so many centuries at his disposal, he’d had plenty of time to torture himself over it. The only bit of physical evidence that he’d even had of a life before he first awoke in the crystal cave had been that tiny wooden falcon. He stuck a hand in his pocket, suddenly afraid that he’d lost the one from Lionel. It was still there, small and solid and rough at the edges, tethering him to his new life.
“Did you think someone made you out of sticks and robes?” Nin asked with a laugh. “Of course you have parents.”
“Who are they?” Merlin’s voice was hoarse, twisting, strange in his own ears.
“That I can’t say. They’re quite powerful, and I doubt they would like me being the one to give you the news of who you really are, where you come from, et cetera and so forth.”
“Or you just don’t want to lose out on the dramatic potential of watching me confront my secret, magical parents,” Merlin spat.
“Oh, well, yes. That’s part of it,” she said with a mild, infuriating grin. “Tell me you’re ready, and I’ll return you to them. They are so nearly ready to see you again.” Nin folded her hands, waiting for Merlin to accept her offer.
He let himself sink into that sweet, tempting possibility. He didn’t have to keep inching toward childhood. The loneliness that had kept his life separate from everyone else’s could be over. The special oblivion that waited for him at the end of this would be banished, with one word.
Yes.
“What will happen to Ari?” he asked, unable to stop himself. “Will she defeat Mercer? Unite humankind?”
“Oh, Merlin, uniting humankind under one banner?” She tutted like a grandmother, even though she looked eternally twenty-five. “That sounds like imperialism, doesn’t it? The suns never set on the Arthurian empire? Do you remember how many problems that impulse caused in the past? What about the future? Doesn’t this Mercer Company want to unite everyone, too? How can any single entity know what’s best for all people? These humans keep making the same boring mistake of demonizing difference, but believe me, if unity for all worked, I would have gotten into the deity game a long time ago.”
Once & Future Page 25
