“No one is saying we don’t need suppliers connecting a variety of worlds, but do we need an all-encompassing, tyrannical company with monopolistic power?” Lamarack countered, looking rather impressive in their leather armor. “This summit is about finding new laws, regulations that will keep companies like Mercer from taking over the universe—literally.”
Ari had found a strong voice in Lamarack. They were equal parts well-spoken and unfettered with the rebellious reputation that held Gwen back.
The same naysaying voice, a hard-edged, elderly woman from Tanaka, spoke again. “That is all fine and good, but will these things be resolved before the month is out? Before my people are dying of starvation? I think not. We need to talk about working with Mercer in the meantime. Bridging the gap, installing immediate regulations that—”
The woman was cut off by the sudden appearance of a matronly, beautiful figure. Her image was projected in the middle of the table from the speaker they had been using to allow everyone to hear. The woman wore an ivory dress that rolled over soft curves, and a smile that was just as kind and inviting.
“Greetings, wounded universe. My name is Terra, and I’m speaking to you on behalf of the Mercer Family.”
“Mercer!” several dozen people shouted, a rejection that emboldened Ari to stand and face the projection with Excalibur in hand.
“What do you want?”
Terra continued to smile, so grandmotherly that Ari winced at her sincerity. “To deliver an olive branch. The Mercer Company is no more. We are rebranding, reassessing our role in the universe and our position as a supplier of great needs. We are the Mercer Family. We are here to support you, care for you.” She spread her soft arms and glanced around the room.
“You offer this aid by hacking into our private meeting,” Gwen said, raising herself beside Ari. “That sounds exactly like the old Mercer.”
“We apologize, but we did not feel that we could appear in person, what with your rather murderous leadership.”
Ari slammed Excalibur down on the table. “I executed the man who ordered and oversaw the genocide of my people. And I would do it again.”
“We understand your actions in the arena, Ara Azar. The former Administrator had lost his way and become power hungry. We all know the constant threat of that, don’t we?” Her eyes fell on Ari in a chastising way that was entirely too effective.
Gwen gripped Ari’s arm, a warning.
“We did not come here to argue fault, but to look to the future. We are aware that several planets have fallen under intense hardship since the destruction of the starship Heritage and the cessation of trade across the Mercer-connected galaxies. We would like to offer food and medical supplies at no charge, to all of you. Furthermore, we will agree to any regulations that this summit feels necessary to enact.”
Terra fell silent, and Merlin stood. Everyone looked at him.
“That is too generous. What is your price?” he asked. “I have lived long enough to know that no empire eats crow without getting something in return.”
The matronly smile returned. “We ask only for you to return what you’ve taken from us.”
“Taken?” Ari nearly yelled. “What have we taken from you? Other than that monstrosity of a starship.”
“The last Administrator, as wrong as he was, was important to us. You will provide us with the next Administrator.” Her hand waved toward Gwen.
“I would rather die than work for Mercer,” Gwen said, chilling the whole amphitheater.
“You would rather see to the near-instant deaths of fifty planets’ worth of people?” the woman asked, and for the first time, her voice had a no-nonsense edge. “No matter,” she said, softening. “We could not use you. Administrators require a rather special upbringing. We need a child. A baby is even better.”
Ari’s body went numb.
“The heir to the Lionelian and Ketchan throne. Give us the baby, the embryo. We will grow it with such care that it will be stronger, healthier, and smarter than it could ever be in your malnourished womb.”
“This is outrageous,” Merlin hissed.
Terra turned to face him. “It is rather medieval, but Mercer didn’t pick the theme, now, did we?” She smiled with fragility, sadness. It humanized her in astounding and horrible ways. “Give us this physical reminder of your loyalty before the rest of the galaxies, and we will make sure that not a single person dies in the aftermath of your rebellion. One life for so, so many. We will give you the night to accept our offer.”
She disappeared without another word. For all this new Administrator’s differences, she had the same sense of drama.
The long silence in her wake meant a lot of things. That some people would accept this offer. That many more were considering how to accept this offer.
Ari’s voice shook out of her. “If you believe Mercer, that they will agree to regulations and help the needy in this time without profit… if you believe that Gwen handing over her child as payment for my wrath upon the former Administrator is just, leave now.”
Ari didn’t mean to be so clipped, so harsh—but she was about to lose her Ketchan mind, and she did not know what else to do. A dozen people stood. No, it was more than that. Far more than half. It was so many, in fact, that Ari dismissed the rest of them without even taking count. In a very small corner of her consciousness, she understood. They were thinking of this one child—barely the size of a thumb—that could give the entire universe a chance.
In the aftermath of the exodus, Ari stood before her knights, Merlin, and Gwen in the amphitheater.
Gwen’s face was ashy, her eyes vacant. Ari helped her into a seat.
“This is vile,” Jordan whispered.
“I’m going to be sick,” Val added.
Ari searched Merlin’s face. She couldn’t bring herself to turn to Gwen, although she was still gripping Ari’s elbow. “Merlin, what do we do?”
He shook his head—and kept shaking it. “You cannot give that child to your enemy, Ari. It’s the recipe for another Mordred. We cannot allow this.”
“Of course we can’t, but we only have until morning to come up with a plan,” Ari said faintly. “Or we will have a few starving galaxies to answer to…” Ari shook with the ultimatum Mercer had served up in the middle of her first round-table summit. The heir to Lionel and Ketch, the family Gwen had always wanted, the last piece of Kay—and the baby that Ari had already not-so-secretly started to love—in exchange for “peace.”
They all stared at one another, as if that could change anything.
“No plan in the universe is going to fix this one,” Val whispered. Ari violently hated how right he was. There was nothing they could do to keep this child safe when Mercer still held so much sway over every habitable planet.
The speaker in the center of the stone table fizzled and popped. Lam ducked while Jordan drew her sword. There was a sputter of digital noise, and suddenly the group was staring at an object of some sort. Old bone-colored pottery, lined with a gold rim.
“What the hell is that?” Val shouted. “More presents from Mercer?”
Merlin moved to the edge of the round table, leaning in as he inspected.
“It’s coming from Arthur,” Ari said, placing her hand over her chest, breath tight. “And it’s hurting him to show us this. I think he’s in some kind of prison.”
“It looks like a grail,” Jordan said. “The Holy Grail? The one that appeared to Arthur and his knights, igniting their quest for it?” Ari—and several of her friends—shot Jordan a look. “Am I truly the only person here who found out we’re reliving an ancient medieval myth and looked up the story?”
“Ouch,” Lam said.
Merlin waved his hand at Jordan. “But the Grail was wood. This is… Arthur’s chalice.”
As if its name had broken its spell, the image vanished. Ari slumped into the chair beside Gwen, still trying hard to breathe. “What just happened, Merlin? What was that?”
Merlin slumped i
nto the chair beside her, staring into space. “I almost didn’t recognize it. I have so few memories of that time. Of that place.”
“I remember,” Morgana said, voice deep and yet riled. “Arthur’s chalice was a gift from the enchantresses of Avalon during his eighteenth birthday season. It compelled those who drank from it to see the truth, the truth that is hardest to face. Arthur used it to compel obnoxious, young, would-be kings into becoming his knights. It went missing in Arthur’s lifetime. Lost.”
“Arthur spent years looking for it,” Merlin said in a whisper, looking up at Morgana. “The loss of that chalice felt like the beginning of his end. He did not have it when Mordred came of age… when he began to rage against his father…” Merlin’s eyes drifted to Gwen’s stomach, and Ari stood up, crossing between them as she paced.
“A cup that makes people believe the truth? If we had that—” She flew back toward Merlin, taking his shoulders. “If we had that, we could make this Terra see the horrors of her ways. We could change the Mercer Company from the inside.”
Merlin stood, pushing her away. “And how would we get it by tomorrow, Ari? I couldn’t find it when Arthur’s kingdom was in the balance. What makes you believe we’ll just pluck it out of the air before Mercer comes back?”
“Because we aren’t going to pluck it out of the air,” Ari said, eyes and heart on fire. “We’re going to steal it from the past.”
Merlin stood at the edge of the red desert, just after sunset. He found himself breathing the dry air deeply, savoring the rampant colors of this place. Particularly the siren birds whose screams underscored this terrible—and by that he meant absolutely horrible—idea to return to Camelot.
But Merlin had not been able to reject it because of the baby. The child could not be ripped away from Ari and Gwen as payment to Mercer. It would not become another Mordred, not while he stood by and watched. He hadn’t broken away from Nin, and possibly incurred her wrath, just to let that happen. King Arthur had picked this moment so there was no way Merlin could refuse.
“You chivalrous ass,” Merlin muttered.
Morgana appeared so suddenly and so close to Merlin that he screamed.
“Why must you do that?” he said, dusting himself off as if the shock of seeing her was clingy as sand.
“You do see the poetry in this, don’t you?” Morgana said with a slick smile. “You couldn’t find Arthur’s chalice all those years ago to save his kingdom because future you stole it right from his table.”
“We don’t know that that will come to pass. Or did come to pass. We don’t know anything apart from my solid gut reaction that this is a terrible idea.”
“Easy for you to say,” she said, more than a touch of sadness in her voice, reminding Merlin of what was about to happen. “You will have to be the one to do it. Ari is too fond of me, despite our arguments. The act will harm her.”
Merlin’s face mussed up, a combination of being annoyed that Morgana was right and a little heartbroken about how casually the enchantress spoke. “How will we make sure we find the right time and place?” he asked. “Camelot was a mere blip of a moment. We could easily end up on Old Earth now, England sunk in the Atlantic, or Britain during the time of the Spice Girls, for heaven’s sake.” He couldn’t help himself; “Wannabe” started to hum through his lips.
Morgana held a wispy finger to his mouth. “If you get one of your damn pop songs stuck in my head, I’ll come back to haunt you.”
Merlin tried to smile. “That would be reason enough, old enemy.”
Morgana gazed at the same last streak of desert sunset that Merlin had just been admiring. “We have to use Nin’s magic, Merlin. That’s how we find the right time and place. You know what that means.”
The sight of Excalibur flashed in Merlin’s mind. “I do. Ari will be heartbroken.”
“Such sacrifices,” Morgana whispered. “Is all existence riddled with such sacrifice?”
Merlin sighed. “It certainly seems that way.”
Ari’s knights appeared, tramping away from Omaira, leaving the lights of the city behind. Together the small, quiet band followed a stone road to the spot where the desert opened up like a dark-red sea. Merlin had spent the afternoon inspecting their outfits and dressing them in the remnants of Lionelian fashion on Error. He’d been so successful that they now appeared as if they’d fallen out of a distant time, even if his fashion demands had turned slightly… ominous. Particularly when he apologized profusely and put Lamarack in men’s clothes to match their leather armor—and made them scrub off their makeup.
“Did you say good-bye to your mothers, Ari?” Merlin asked.
“I did,” she said grimly. “I told them they couldn’t ask where we were going, in case Mercer tries to get it out of them.”
“Not that anyone would believe them,” Gwen added.
“Or be able to follow us,” Ari said, holding tightly to Gwen’s hand.
“They can’t chase us to the past, but they can certainly wreak havoc while we’re gone,” Merlin said, thinking of the Lionelians they’d fought so hard to save. Big Mama, sitting on her eggs at this very moment.
“I don’t trust the rest of the representatives to hold out against Mercer for long, especially if we’re missing,” Ari said. “How long will we be gone?”
Merlin didn’t have an answer to Ari’s question. They would find Arthur’s chalice as quickly as they could, but it wouldn’t be an easy task. For a flicker of a moment, he didn’t believe that it could be done. As they marched, that flicker grew into a burning, blazing fear. “If we get lucky, we could be back tonight, so to speak. We can return to any time we want to. The trick is figuring out how to get back.”
“How much farther are we going?” Gwen asked, looking dangerously exhausted.
“Not far,” Merlin said, nodding to Jordan, who swept Gwen up in her broad arms and carried her like a baby.
“She’ll be a terrible target,” Merlin whispered to Ari. “If it’s obvious that she’s pregnant and not married to a man, they could stone her.”
“Stone her?”
“Beat her to death with stones.”
“What?” Ari blurted, alarming every single person in their company. She grabbed his arm and yanked him close. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“How could someone joke about that?” he asked, bright tears blurring his vision. “I’m trying to warn you. Back then it’s not Mercer you have to worry about. It’s murder. Sexism,” he said, glaring at Gwen. “Racism.” His eyes bounced across the group. “Homophobia!” he croaked.
“Homo what?” Ari asked.
“You must listen, Ari,” Merlin said. “King Arthur was special because he rose from the ashes of one of the worst times in human history. That’s why it was called the Dark Ages.”
Ari’s grip fastened on Excalibur. “Merlin, this isn’t just to stop Mercer and save the baby. We’re going to look for a way to save you, too, to stop your backward aging, before…” She didn’t have to finish her sentence. Merlin felt his own ending looming up like a doorway to oblivion. He didn’t tell her that he’d started to give up on having a future, that he couldn’t afford that hope any longer, although he suspected she sensed it in his resigned silence.
This would be Merlin’s last quest, and so he had no choice but to make it his greatest.
“Here,” Morgana’s voice rang out, causing everyone to stop. At first, there was only the night, but then the light-blue shimmering soul of the ancient enchantress appeared before them.
“How do we make it happen?” Ari asked.
“We combine our magic. As much as we can gather,” Merlin said, closing his eyes and humming. He took Ari’s magnificent sword, leaking incandescent energy into it, making it shine like a bright star. When he was done, his singing voice dwindled out, and he sagged slightly.
Ari eyed the glowing sword, and Jordan set Gwen down. “Now what?”
“Give me a moment.” Morgana threw her dark head back, taking in th
e silver stars. “How will you return? The opening will only hold for a moment.”
“The elegant nightmare makes a great point,” Val muttered.
“We’ll find a way. That place sounds like it’s overrun with magic.” Ari turned to Gwen, dark doubt in her voice. “Do you trust me? It’ll be my goal to bring us back to this time, to fix this future, but who knows if that’s possible.”
“Of course,” Gwen said, her honesty as brilliant as torchlight.
They faced Morgana. The enchantress held a hand to Ari’s cheek, and one on Merlin’s. “The people of that time and place will seek to kill you, while their savagery and ignorance will break you. You, because you’ve never imagined it,” she said to Ari, and then she turned to Merlin, “And you because you believed you’d escaped it.”
Merlin felt a chill in the desert wind, but he hardened his stance.
Morgana positioned herself with the tip of the sword on her chest. “Aim for my heart, old wizard.”
“It’s magician,” Merlin coughed.
“Wait, you’re going to… kill her?” Ari asked, horrified. “No, I—”
“Farewell,” Morgana said. She reached for Merlin’s shoulders and pressed close in a rush. Merlin felt the impending death magic rattle through every single atom. Morgana screamed with the kind of pain that ended worlds, Excalibur rushing straight through her.
And the night exploded with blue light.
They were thrown back into the sand, nothing left of Excalibur in Merlin’s palm except for the handle and hilt. Nothing left of Morgana except for a contracting web of gray mist. Merlin had killed Morgana, so it wouldn’t leave a hole in Ari, but he felt one open up, unexpected and ragged, in his own heart.
“Go!” he yelled. “Before it closes!”
Lamarack shouted a warning, but Merlin’s eyes were already set beyond this time and place. He struggled to his feet, one arm locked around Ari. They moved as one through ice-cold mist, away from this end and into the cursed heart of the very beginning.
Once & Future Page 29
