by Chris Page
“It also,” said the boy, applying himself to more earthly matters, “puts a whole new meaning on your fight with her.”
“It certainly does. And there’s more, another secret weapon. The hiding of our aura trail led me to another bit of interesting manipulation. Something else that will aid us greatly in the approaching conflict. I think you will like this one, skirmisher. I think you will like this one very much …”
In much the way that animals know when nature is about to inflict great change on the landscape through an abomination of weather, with the exception of a gathering of animals in ligamen to the three venefici involved, everything else seemed to suddenly desert the area around Cadbury Castle. The hooded ravens, helpers to Merlin and Twilight through their relationship with the pica, were gone; burrowers tunneled deep into the earth and stayed still; those with speed ran away from the area as hard as they could, then found a cover where they quivered in breathless fear; and all the other birds scattered on the wing in all directions and kept on going until their wings ached. Even the humans, a species not known for the ability to read the runes of approaching danger, sensed that being in the vicinity of the castle was not a good place to be. Hurriedly grabbing a few small belongings they moved out of the area as quickly as possible. The Wessex sward thrummed of approaching battle, an unusual, extraordinary battle where anything or anyone in the way would get severely damaged or hurt. The wolves began to arrive in the wooded areas surrounding the castle. Snapping and yelping nervously at each other they prowled the grounds with frequent growls directed to the branches above where an assembly of pica and hawk gazed down at them in silent loathing. In their midst their leader, Pad, kept a wary eye on Lupa, the white wolf cub given to him for safekeeping by Elelendise three days ago before she disappeared. Provided with nourishing milk by a nursing mother whose teats he had mutilated to raw flesh with his small, sharp teeth, the little white wolf was beginning to manifest all the early brutality that had been the hallmark of his father. His eyesight now fully established, the embryonic leader and favorite of his mistress had begun to grow into a vicious nuisance to the wolves around him, specifically Pad, who was fed up with the constant biting the spindly, underdeveloped wolf cub inflicted upon his ears as he practiced his attacks.
Then Elelendise arrived. Announcing her sudden presence with a salvo of exploding blue thunderbolts high in the air above Cadbury Castle, and clad in a floor-length pure white dress with her blond tresses cascading down around her shoulders, she suddenly appeared on the top of the tower Merlin had prophesied. Looking around with lip-curling arrogance she called out in an amplified voice that rang across the castle and surrounding valley.
“Reveal yourself, old man. Your nemesis and replacement has arrived to claim her rightful inheritance.”
The wolves held their breath, the wind died away, and the mid-morning Cadbury Castle was enveloped in a silent vacuum broken only by the echo of her hate-filled words. Everything seemed to hold its breath upon the appearance of the long magus. Time passed, the wolves became restive again, and the birds fidgeted.
Still he did not come.
Another salvo of thunderbolts exploded in the air.
“If you do not reveal yourself, old man, I will direct my next salvo at those mangy, feathered chickens gathered in the trees to witness your downfall.”
She turned to face down the valley where the birds were perched and drew back her left arm.
“Ahhh, there you are.” The long magus beamed, appearing below her on the ground in the castle keep. “A fine day for a fight, don’t you think?”
She looked down sharply, taken by surprise by his appearance beneath her. Something wasn’t quite right.
“A fine day to celebrate my victory,” she snarled. “A victory that will taste all the sweeter after my recent visit …”
The long magus suddenly transformed to the top of the tower diagonally opposite her as she paused.
“… to see my old mentor, Mael!”
Merlin was suddenly grave. Her words of dread echoed across the valley, and he knew that Twilight could also hear them from his hidden vantage point. He also knew, as the boy would, what was coming next.
“Ha, I see that surprises you, wrong magus. No more than it surprised me when arriving back at my old teaching ground for a little rest and reflection having been banished by Penda from his side, I found Mael still alive. Only just, but alive nonetheless. I quickly realized that the old fool had tricked me and taken a year off his life. A matter you and that ragged urchin are also aware of because your auras were everywhere.”
“He was a most wonderful and prescient veneficus. I only wish that we could have met sooner. I presume he is dead?” Merlin’s voice was quiet.
“It didn’t take much,” she sneered. “Deaf, blind, naked, and almost brainless, the old fool had nothing left to offer. The only sensation left was a limited ability to smell. This was particularly useful when I burned every otter on the lake. As he sat there completely helpless I paralyzed and stacked all two hundred of those detested animals in a pyre around him and set fire to the lot. Deaf or not, every otter scream would have pierced him to the heart. The acrid pungency of their burning fur and flesh would have shaken every belief he ever held. I think the intense emotion of that killed him off, but just for good measure I threw his wasted, useless old body on the fire as well. After the fire had reduced them to a pile of ash, I blew it away. There is nothing left but blackened earth. It’s as if they never existed. It will soon be the same with you and the urchin.”
As much as he wanted to bow his head, surrender to his sadness, and pay silent homage to the old northern astounder whose body he would not now place under his destiny stone, the long magus knew he couldn’t, for one moment, give in to the deep feelings that swept through him or take his eyes off the wolf-woman. Nor could he think of the impact her ringing words would have on the boy. He had to stick to his battle plan; there would be time enough for remorse later … and vengeance if it worked.
On the other side of the valley Twilight was completely crushed. The image of a burning pyre of those wonderful, watchful, bright-eyed animals and the final, tortured emotions that Mael would have been subjected to was more than he could bear. He was violently sick.
Then the thunderbolts began to explode.
Having no reason to move or hide - the small, hurriedly thrown green thunderbolts spasmodically coming back at her were ineffectual and wide of the mark - Elelendise stood tall on her tower and hurled salvo after salvo of powerful blue streaks at the fleeing long magus. At the back of her mind was the nagging worry that the appearing then disappearing old magus was not leaving any aura trail, but, just as the old sorcerer had hoped, the thrill of her complete dominance and the noise of the detonations took over. Several times she blew away the huge blocks of sandstone beneath the disappearing Merlin’s feet and once almost took his head off with one that whistled over his shoulder before he had time to transform out of its way. As the chase wore on, the drawbridge almost disintegrated as he dodged under it, three of the four towers were blown away as he peered out from behind them, and most of the ramparts bore ragged signs of her exploding missiles. Rubble began to pile up in the central keep and spill into the moat. Twice Merlin sought refuge in the cavernous, underground rooms of the castle, and each time she flushed him out by blowing out the side walls. After two hours of detonations, smoke, dust, and an ever-mounting pile of exploded stone, the still unscathed long magus introduced the first of his secret weapons.
Water.
Remembering her phobia of water from when she had been drowned in Mael’s lake, the previous evening Merlin had placed two large gourds of ice-cold water in strategic places: one above the tower where she took up station, and the second high above the ramparts over the entrance. Holding around six full pails, he rendered them invisible and untraceable and left them hovering. They awaited his attenti
on.
Which he now gave one of them.
Diving behind a pile of fallen sandstones, he just had time to glimpse the look of gloating triumph on her face as she drew back her left arm to hurl yet another blue-streaked salvo of deadly thunderbolts at him.
“Liberum prima aqua,” he muttered. “Free the first water.”
Even the extra sharp reactions of Elelendise didn’t allow her enough time to move or transform out of the way before the ice-cold deluge dropped onto her head. Letting out a scream of surprise and anguish, she immediately forgot the thunderbolts her left arm was primed for and dropped to her knees. With the dreaded water streaming down her face and body and forming a puddle on the tower floor, she momentarily forgot all her venefical skills and clawed at it for a few moments while struggling to regain orientation. When she finally stood up, the momentary bewilderment on her face was replaced by snarling anger. The old man would pay dearly for this; she would make a pennant of his skin and fly it from the top of Glastonbury Tor.
Which old man? For lined across the broken ramparts on the far side of the castle stood ten still, perfectly formed, and smiling images of the long magus.
“What’s the matter, sinister hybrid, afraid of a little water?” The ten images spoke mockingly to her in unison.
With a loud cry of rage she drew back her left arm and released ten thunderbolts in a blur of motion. As each sped toward its target the ten images disappeared, only to reappear when the thunderbolts had sped harmlessly by. Again she fired with the same result.
Suddenly she stopped. The old magus was obviously trying to wear her out. No auras, lots of images, running and hiding, no trace of the real Merlin, water. Very clever, but it wouldn’t work. She had plenty of power left, more than enough to finish it.
“If you’re trying to run down my power, old man, you’ve failed,” she shouted toward the now empty ramparts. “I’m as ready now as I was when we started this little game of hide and seek.”
Her eye was caught by the sudden appearance of a flock of small hawks flying up the valley fast but low to the ground. Remembering the death beams with which the urchin’s pied-poly devils had finished Lupa, she quickly called a heavy cloud over the sun and released a spread of thunderbolts at the fast approaching hawks.
Before the missiles reached the birds they disappeared, the thunderbolts exploding harmlessly on the side of a hill. Another flight of hawks appeared from the left, hugging the tree line, then another from the right. Two more flights suddenly appeared flying up the valley behind her, and another approached high from the cloud-covered sun. She guessed they were harmless images sent to draw her fire, but they were a distraction. She quickly released thunderbolts at all of them before turning back to the castle.
To find a sneaky green thunderbolt from Merlin almost on her.
Transforming instantly to an intact part of the ramparts above the drawbridge, she breathed a sigh of relief. The old man was clever, very clever. That bolt almost removed her left arm.
“Liberum secundus aqua!”
Before she had time to react again, the second pre-placed invisible bomb of ice-cold water dropped on her head. The long magus had purposefully placed the second gourd at that undamaged spot and left it knowing that at some point she would go to it as the next highest spot to the tower she occupied. Chuckling to himself at her screaming rage as she once again dropped to her knees, clawing at the streaming water, Merlin sent four big sandstones from the shattered walls at her head from different angles. Coming to her feet she blew each one to dust before they got near her … then disappeared.
There was a lull, and the dust began to settle.
The long magus could tell where she was by the aura trail that led to a point high in the sky above the castle. She couldn’t detect him, though, because he left no trail … which was just as well as he placed himself just above her, waiting and watching.
Her power was beginning to diminish. Not enough to worry about yet, but it was definitely dropping away. The tactics employed by the long magus were forcing her to use power unnecessarily in order to avoid being hit. He was crowding her, reducing her decision time, and forcing a quick response. She knew it and needed a little time to think of a suitable riposte.
A calm settled over the shattered ruins of the castle.
A lone pica appeared, perched on a pile of rubble. Clutching a blue feather in its beak it sat motionless, dark eyes fixed unwaveringly upward on the exact point where Elelendise hovered. Then another one appeared, also with a blue feather, then another and another. Soon there were fifty glossy black-andwhite birds perched on various vantage points around the castle’s fallen masonry. With a feather clutched firmly in each beak they gazed fixedly at the point in the sky where she was.
From above the long magus watched her. She was beginning to get a little confused, wondering what he was up to. The birds, carefully placed at least a thunderbolt apart, were too many; it would take too much power to fire at them all, if, indeed, they were real.
“What’s the matter, sinister one? Afraid of a few chickens?”
The long magus’s soft voice spoke just above her head.
She whirled in surprise and, needing to be visible in order to release thunderbolts, appeared and fired three of them harmlessly upward. She was rewarded with a mocking chuckle from somewhere to her left.
Again she unleashed a thunderbolt in the direction of the voice.
“Perhaps you should call in your slavering dogs. It’s just the terrain for them, eh, hybrid?”
Another blue bolt flew, this time to the right. More feather-carrying pica arrived. Back down the valley, three flights of hawks again appeared. This time they, too, clutched a blue feather in their sharp, curved beaks.
“Mastering the art of disguising your aura trail won’t save you, old man. I’ll catch up with you eventually,” she shouted, looking wildly about her with just a hint of desperation.
Two more flights of hawks came over the horizon and, moving quickly into a one-behind-the-other formation, arrowed in on the castle.
Each one of them carried a small, round object in their talons.
“Those are live thunderbolts,” the long magus’s voice said matter-of-factly as she spotted the incoming hawks. “There are many more coming. Some even have water bombs.”
Screaming in desperation the wolf-woman began hurling blue-streaked missiles at the fast approaching birds.
They all disappeared before the fizzing missiles got to them.
Merlin’s voice boomed out.
“Consider this, barbarous misfit. Besides my presence, I can disguise my thunderbolts as well. The first thing you will know of their deadly presence is when one of them separates your murderous head from your lifeless shoulders. I also have a lot more strategically placed ice-cold water bombs awaiting my command.”
It was a double lie. He couldn’t disguise his thunderbolts and did not have any more water bombs in position, but she wasn’t to know that. After what she did to Mael and his wonderful otters, telling her lies in order to hasten her end was justified.
“Your murderous charade is almost over, wolf-woman. The reason you were placed on this earth has been curtailed by my greater experience and battle skills. The immortal who placed you here would have known that when you were selected. You were doomed from the very beginning, sacrificed on the altar of his amusement. Summa seeds non cupit duos - the highest seat does not hold two, left-handed nearly woman.”
Elelendise visibly shuddered. The mocking voice of the long magus was all around her. For the first time a look of fear came into her eyes. She was beginning to understand the greater meaning behind all this and the impossibility of the task before her. Merlin had cleverly cornered all the advantages. He had purposefully chosen this place where he could dodge and hide as her power reduced. Somehow he had found a way to hide his aura and therefore whe
reabouts; her wolves were useless in this rubble-strewn terrain; the water bombs were sapping her resolve; and there were those accursed birds carrying blue feathers and bombs everywhere. If all that wasn’t enough, he could hit her with disguised thunderbolts and mock her at will. The battle was slipping away from her; she had been outthought and outmaneuvered. She doubted if she would be resurrected a second time. When she had drowned in Mael’s lake, her purpose had not been served. Now, apparently, it had, and this time she would be left to rot.
She compressed her lips. There was one thing left, one last, desperate action.
It was time to go berserk; it was time for a terminus.
The bardic runes that enshrine the venefical enchantments have a built-in mechanism that allows a holder of the enchantments a few precious minutes of time when the venefical heart has stopped beating and premature death - before the end of the one-hundred-year term is up - has occurred. The long magus had already alluded to this extra period in answer to the question from Twilight as to how he would transfer the great Stonehenge secret if his own life were extinguished. These few golden minutes were the finale of a two-stage failsafe venefical mechanism known as the venefical conclusion. The first part, a desperate measure designed to inflict maximum damage and take as many assailants with you as possible, was known as the venefical terminus. In essence it meant summoning up every last ounce of power, directing it at the heart of the enemy or the terrain he occupied, and going out in a blaze of glory. Elelendise had no use of the conclusion, as she had nothing to pass on and no one to share it with, but she had one very good reason for a terminus, namely that she was on the verge of a humiliating defeat.
