Merlin's Ring

by H. Warner Munn

  “I have a certain knowledge of spells that I shall add to the composition of such an earthshaking devouring fire that will issue from the quiet bronze throat of Feng to startle his own ancestors, enrich his son, and astonish the Exalted Presence into granting all wishes of we three.”

  “This mention of wealth that is to shower mdiscriminately upon all concerned is a most fascinating balm for aching ears,” cautiously remarked the magician. “If such a delightful phenomenon is contingent on the aforementioned discovery of a new continent, it should be dismissed from the Councillor’s thoughtful consideration.

  “Such a land is well known to all scholars of Ch’in. Over seven centuries ago, the Buddhist monk, Hoei-Shin, sailed in search of new lands to the east and found them. The Painted People live there and the name of that country is Fusang, although some call it ‘Tahan,’ or ‘Great China.’

  “The Son of Heaven will not be interested. All is lucidly set forth in the Ten Books of Profitable Travels. He can read there as much as you can tell him. His Ineffable Eminence would not allow so much as a handful of wheat flour for your ‘news.’ ”

  “There was no intention of opening negotiations with any individual whose concern is that of the making of bread. Our discussion should confine itself to the composition of the earth-thunder powder and its possible improvement. What are the excellent elements and in what abstruse proportions are they assembled, high-minded and sagacious Wu?”

  “Two portions of the best willow charcoal, two of the flowers of brimstone, and six parts of nitre—as is used in rockets.”

  Gwalchmai possessed an excellent memory. Although he did not have total recall, he sometimes found himself able to visualize whole pages out of Merlin’s arcane library, now forever lost.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated. He vaguely remembered seeing a formula, in which “Chinese Snow” was mentioned. Merlin’s informant had been a sailor. Merlin, curious about all strange lands, noted the odd fact that those who crossed desert and mountain to reach the land behind the Great Wall spoke of it as Cathay. However, the sea people who visited the harbors of that country knew it by the name of China. Europeans called the same realm by two different names and the alchemists referred to Chinese Snow. Could this element be nitre?

  He struck his brow. He frowned. Formulae came slowly to his mind, only to be discarded. He had the feeling of a busy little searcher opening closed compartments in his brain, only to angrily slam them shut. What was it, this elusive information?

  Charcoal—sulphur—that was another name for brimstone; these other ingredients of the explosive; both Wu and Gwalchmai’s godfather had used them, but with such varying results. Could the secret be in the proportions?“

  Suddenly the words leaped before him as upon an unfolded screen: “Take of Chinese Snow, five measures, compacted; Rhamnus Frangula, trimmed one inch in diameter and overheated well in a closed iron retort, ground fine— three measures, packed tightly; Aureate Pollen of Aetna, alembic distilled and crystallized—two full measures. Sift, mix, wet, dry in cakes, crumble, sift, and use as desired.”

  That was it! Nitre, charcoal—but of dogwood, not willow —and -brimstone. The same simple ingredients, obscured to the uninitiate by the flowery, symbolic language of the alchemist, of which Merlin had no peer—but—“Use as desired”?

  Why could he not have been more explicit? Use—how? In bombs? Rockets? Thunder-tubes?

  Did Merlin ever imagine such a horror as a thunder-tube? What would happen if this more explosive dust, which Gwalchmai hoped to re-create, were confined, as he had seen Wu’s workman use the weaker variety? Perhaps the tube would burst.

  Mentally, he turned a page. Ah, yes! Rockets! Fantastically colored balls of whistling fire, ejected from tubes! Here was the remembered list of added ingredients with which to manufacture such marvels:

  “A moiety of Friable Acrusite (Good Heavens! How much was a moiety?). A portion of Sublimated Argent Sperm of Yaotzin (also known as hydragyrum)—interesting; Yaotzin was an Aztlanian demon! Well—the Azteca called gold ”The offal of the Gods.“ Demon’s sperm might be mercury, for he knew from his studies that an explosive fulminate could be derived from cinnabar, the mother of mercury.

  Was there more? Yes! “A driblet of distilled essence of Naphtha.” That should be easy to procure. “Tears of Resin; Triturated Dragon’s Blood—a quantity.” A quantity indeed!

  Gwalchmai cursed in five languages. All that for rockets? The proportions? Nothing came to mind.

  Wait—a footnote! The secret was fading, but helpfully a little more remained. “Compounded under the auspices of Venus and Jupiter, under the dominance of Mars—see Celestial Heat Spell in the Book of the Red Dragon.”

  There, at last, Gwalchmai was on firm ground. Proportions were exasperatingly vague, but the spell was available. It had been carved in Ogham letters, tiny, worn, but readable, upon the outer edge of the Ring’s hoop. The spell was constantly in use among alchemists, in the compounding of formulae concerning the four elements—earth, air, fire, and water—that comprise almost everything.

  Naturally, Merlin would have kept it handy to aid his memory. Gwalchmai pondered further upon the subject. The thunder-tubes were made of bronze, which is a composition of copper (whose sign is Venus) and tin (Jupiter!) and they were to be used, obviously, in war! Certainly Mars was dominant there! All three of the necessary astrological signs were favorable—and he had the spell!

  How could he fail? In the powder, he recognized its essentially earthy nature, its fugacious atoms, and its con-nection through smoke with the spirits of the air. Of the four elements, he thus had control of three, and, as water was unnecessary, its lack should be no detriment to the efficiency of the compound.

  Nor was he disappointed in his choice of the magician as his aid. He cautiously sounded out Shan Cho’s knowledge of magical lore, finding, as he had suspected, that much of it was mere sleight-of-hand, or pure trickery. He was pleased to learn that Shan Cho was familiar with the more obscure items listed in Chinese pharmacopoeias.

  In addition, he had influential friends in the Worshipful and Honorable Guild of Resplendent Sky-Fire Hurlers and through them he procured for Gwalchmai books on the mystery and the art of making fireworks. The symbols in these books supplemented Gwalchmai’s own sketchy knowledge and gave him the clues he needed to assemble the materials necessary.

  With the facilities available in the foundry, purification and assembly of the essentials was no great problem, and . after many trials the three finally managed to create a most satisfying composition, far superior to Wu’s own blend.

  It exploded with a fine, shattering report, hurling stones much farther from the thunder-tubes than ever before. It was obvious from the cloud of black smoke emitted that this should prove to all dog-devils that Kublai, the Invincible, was not only Son of Heaven, but also Nephew to Dragons and that resistance to him would be quite useless.

  The only drawback to this close communion of minds among the three partners, from Gwalchmai’s point of view, was the fact that Mei-mei, the Magician’s dancing girl and aid, was continually underfoot. Her name meant Little Sister, but her attentions were far from being sisterly, Mei-mei’s eyes were big and her voice encouraging whenever she was near Gwalchmai. He found considerable difficulty hi keeping his mind strictly upon his other problems.

  Remembering well the nixie hi Elveron, he sometimes wondered if Corenice was again teasing him, or once more testing his fidelity. In the effort to give her no excuse for later chiding, he succeeded so well hi assuming an attitude of refined no-encouragement to Mei-mei that the dancing girl transferred her ignored charms to the foundry-man. Wu accepted them with enthusiasm and no complaints.

  Had Gwalchmai studied Flann’s holy books, or even the

  Analects of K’ung Fu-tse, he might have been forewarned that a woman scorned would bear watching. Possibly, he might have caught her, late one night,‘in the act of adding an entirely superfluous quantity of sublimat
ed essence of nitre to the completed store of the mixture.

  This might not have mattered a great deal, had not both Wu and Shan Cho, anxious that all should go supremely well, mixed in, unbeknownst to each other, increased amounts of whatever ingredients they separately considered the most potent.

  With this original and untried, not to say unusual, compound, the empty bombs were charged. Following this delicate work, the expulsive charges were measured out into bags for the loading of the thunder-tubes.

  Gwalchmai had been so pleased with the final trials of the powder that he forbore reciting the spell over it until the actual time of the demonstration, feeling that the Khan should be among the first to witness the new weapon in its mightiest aspect.

  At this period in time there was, between the Purple Forbidden City and the Temple of Heaven, a large open parade ground. Here troops were reviewed, public festivals were observed, kite competitions were held, and crowds could be addressed with facility.

  Having obtained permission for a demonstration of the improved missile throwers, the three partners l issued a challenge to the manufacturers of the old. It was accepted with scorn and a date agreed upon without much difficulty.

  Immediately following, stands were erected for the nobility, graded downward in size and comfort from the Peacock Throne of the Great Khan to vermilion-lacquered chairs of Mandarins, upholstered stools for Confucian scholars, teachers, and civil servants, and simple wooden benches for bonzes and other priests.

  Artisans, engineers, and workmen hovered around the implements of war, where the standard army-issue catapults and stone mortars were set up at one end of the field.

  Ranged alongside these bomb-hurlers, Gwalchmai, Wu, and Shan Cho had already directed the foundry crew in the mounting of the battery of thunder-tubes. They were loaded and ready to fire. Near them were stacked the iron bombs that would be used in the next salvos, now filled with the improved powder, and little carts which held the measured charges for the tubes, in various sizes for the different cali-bers.

  In front of this array of artillery was a clear field of fire, stretching the entire length of the parade ground. Behind the machjnes there milled a tremendous crowd, munching melon and sunflower seeds, drinking sweet liquids and hot tea. They were courting, squabbling, hunting for lost children or lost parents.

  All were having a grand time and most of them were giving free advice to the distracted workmen who were nervously adjusting tube elevations for the fortieth time, driving in more stakes to prevent recoil from the thunder-tubes or cranking down the long catapult arms in readiness to place and light the fused bombs that would be thrown first, before the partners could compete with the new weapons.

  When the Khan arrived and took his seat, surrounded by a group of high officials, each with attendant wives, concubines, and slaves, everyone else had been waiting for at least six hours and many since before dawn. They were hot, sweaty, dusty, and tired; they were ill-humored, anxious, and out of patience; there was a buzz of voices.

  Kublai clapped his hands and those who were able to sat down and fanned themselves. The noise of the crowd hushed.

  The Exalted Chief of Catapult-Engineers, The Elevated Controller of Invincible Mortar-Men, and Wu, of the House of Feng, came forward together and kowtowed with the three kneelings and the nine knockings of the head.

  Gwalchmai, standing in a pentagram he had drawn in the dust, now pronounced the celestial heat spell over the thunder-tubes and the wagonloads of munitions, turning the ring on his finger as he followed the interlaced words around the hoop.

  » He was horrified to find that one letter in one word of the final phrase was almost worn away. He looked closely, but could not make it out Was it a C or a Q? He could not be sure. /

  He raised it closer to his eyes and squinted. It seemed to be the four parallel, transverse lines of an Ogham C, instead of the five of a Q. He so pronounced it and finished the phrase. . As he did so, two things happened. A soft, crepitant rustling or whispering came from the battery of tubes and the stacked bombs near them. One pyramidal pile shook itself apart and the globes rolled and scattered in as many directions, but were speedily restacked. /

  The other event concerned Shan-Cho. He had been apprehensively performing scapulomancy upon a tortoise shell by piercing it with a red-hot needle and now came up with it in his hand. He surreptitiously nudged Gwalchmai and showed him the cracks the heat had made in the shell.

  “Definitely an unpropititious day!” he yammered. “Worthy Councilman, no more unfortunate sign exists in the long history of the art! We must withdraw at once!”

  Gwalchmai had time only to give Mm an indignant look when a catapult arm jerked up, thudded against its padded stop and cast its ignited bomb into the,air. A thin trail of smoke marked its passage toward the targets at the far end of the field. The fuse, fanned to light by the wind of its passage, burned too quickly and the bomb exploded short and in mid-air.

  The engineers looked chagrined and made more fine adjustments to the mechanism. Using a longer fuse, they prepared another shot.

  Now came the turn of the mortars. These fired, at choice, either large stone balls for battering the walls of a city or could lob inflammable packages of tow- and oil-soaked resin into enemy forts and camps.

  They were far from being mobile and were so ponderous that they were considered strictly a siege weapon. It was these that Gwalchmai hoped to supersede with the lighter and more versatile tubes, yet the mortars were formidable competitors.* They had the advantage of being operated by gunners of long experience and of being watched by generals with conservative minds.

  The largest piece was discharged first. Even with the reduced charge of powder necessary under the circumstances of the competition, it let go with a stunning crash. A long streak of flame jetted^ from the monstrous maw and the shock could be felt in’the soles of the feet as the ground absorbed the jar.

  The stone ball went high, became a little black speck and then came rushing back, enlarging itself, whistling down until every individual felt himself its target. Yet so accurate-ly aimed was the mortar that the ball thudded to earth almost in the center of the fifty-foot circle which had been drawn to receive it.

  There was a storm of clapping, fan waving, and applause. The Khan beamed and sent down a purse of gold to be divided among the mortar crew, who sneered with scorn at Wu and his men, who now came forward with lighted brands to take their stand.

  As the bronze tubes were so much smaller, Gwalchmai had determined to make a more impressive display by firing a massed salvo, not exactly in concordance with the previous demonstrations, but within the rules of the competition.

  It had seemed fitting to the partners that since the largest of all the tubes was the one holding the essence of Wu’s paternal ancestor, the uneasy ghost of Feng might be pleased if it were privileged to make the first announcement of the day that an old order was passing and a new method of war was about to begin.

  As highest in rank, Gwalchmai lit the end of the long train of bunched fuses that fanned out to each piece of ordnance hi the battery they had assembled. As the little coals raced along the ground, he wheeled and slapped his firebrand to the primed touch-hole that waited beside him.

  He was amazed to find that there was no explosion. Instead, a prolonged hissing came from the cannon that was Feng. It increased in strength, the sound like steam under high pressure whistling out on a rising scale until it was almost a high, thin shriek.

  Those who could see the muzzle saw also a sharp projection pushing out of it. It moved from side to side, twisting and straining violently as it slowly emerged. Soon all could see clearly that it was a beak, partly opened to reveal a forked darting tongue that flicked hotly over savage fangs. The remainder of the head followed the beak—a domed brow, puffy wattles, and saucer-like, lidless eyes that glared smokily with scarlet pupils at the crowd.

  A crest arose and expanded, sharply serrated like the comb of a fighting cock. The creatu
re stared about, resting for the moment

  Heat waves eddied and shimmered around the unbelievable thing. People tried to fight their way out of the front lines, which were in panic, into the rear of the multitude, while others were pressing forward to get a belter view. The whole assemblage was in turmoil.

  The unspeakable head raised and came farther out. A long scaly neck followed it and short thin arms appeared, ending in viciously taloned digits. The claws gripped the lip of the cannon and the bronze reddened with heat under their clutch.

  Muscles in the shoulders and arms tensed and bunched as the creature drew itself out with difficulty. It hissed again as though in pain and anger. A long stream of fire licked out from the now widely opened beak. It strained dreadfully—pulled its elongated body still farther out of the cannon mouth and drooped toward the ground like an exhausted boneless moth emerging from its chrysalis.

  But it was not wet like that moth! No! Its form was hardening; its shape was now determined; its’ scales rang crisply as it dragged itself along the ground!

  Sgon the crumpled wings spread out like unfurled sails as life, or flaming ichor from its burning veins, poured into them to cause expansion. Its long knotted tail lashed out, the pinions beat wildly, steadied, and the creature took the air in all its flaming, terrible glory and soared, radiating heat like a living sun upon the shuddering people below.

  “Fong-Onhang!” moaned Shan Cho and Wu together. “The fiery dragon!”

  Gwalchmai knew then that the oldest legend to frighten man had somehow come to life. Naming it would not make this great wonder seem but a little thing, for here before his eyes—because of a faulty compound? too much dragon’s blood hi the formula? a mistake in the pentagram?—here flew the fabled Firedrake, whose distant cousin valiant Beowulf had slain to his own doom.

  And now, as the entire battery of the foundry-master’s thunder-tubes was fired, for the action once begun could not be stopped, out of them a hundred more were ejected. They were in various sizes and stages of development: Some were as tiny as sparrows, many as large as ducks. A few could swallow eagles. As all flapped, sqawking and hissing, across the parade ground and roundabout the aghast city of Cambaluc, Gwalchmai saw that the events of the day were not over.