Merlin pc-2

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  So, striking again and again, striking and whirling away, while my hapless opponents floundered and lurched around me, flailing uselessly, with sluggish, inept movements, I joined a bizarre and terrible dance.

  The bards speak with reverence of Oran Mor, the Great Music – elusive source of all melody and song. Very few have the gift to hear it. Taliesin had the gift – or something more than that. But I heard it then: my limbs throbbed with it, my swinging arm told out its unearthly rhythm, my sword sang with its brilliant melody. I was part of Oran Mor, and it was part of me.

  There came a rallying cry and Maelwys' houseguard came clattering into the square. They had ridden from the villa, where the townspeople had fled, and were hurrying to our aid now that it was clear the awaited attack would not come there.

  But a few heartbeats later, I knew the battle was broken. A rising wave of exultation rose within me and I heard a high, keening call, a war chant, a victory cry, and recognized my own voice soaring up from my throat.

  The reaction of the enemy was immediate. They turned to meet the source of this unnerving sound and I saw, in that extraordinary clarity, black despair fall across their features. They were undone. And they knew it.

  My cry rose into a song of triumph, and I leaped to the aid of my sword brothers who were hard pressed, sweet exhilaration sweeping through me and out of my mouth in the song. No one could stand before me, and the Irish fled lest they be trampled beneath my horse's hooves or carved by my swift blade.

  Now I was in one place, freeing a man being dragged to his death, now in another, snatching a weapon from a foe and flinging it to an ally. Once I saw a man falling and reached out, caught him, and hauled him back into the saddle. All the while, my voice rose in joyous celebration. I was invincible.

  I saw Maelwys clear the path and ride to meet me, three of his own behind him. I raised my sword in salute as he came up, and I saw, under the sweat and blood, his face white and his eyes staring. His sword arm was gashed, but he paid it no heed.

  He put a trembling hand out to touch me and I saw his mouth move, but the words were slow in coming.

  'You can stop now, Myrddin. It is over.'

  I grinned and loosed a wild laugh.

  'Look!' he said, shaking me. 'Look around you. We have beat them back. We have won.'

  I peered through the mist that had risen before my eyes. The bodies of the dead lay deep upon the square. The stench of death clawed at my throat.

  I shuddered as with a sudden chill, and began to shake from head to foot. The last thing I saw was the sun bright in my eyes and the clouds swirling above me, swirling like the wings of circling birds.

  I remember arriving at the villa, and the drone of hushed voices around me. I remember drinking something very bitter, and then vomiting. I remember waking cold in fire-shot darkness to the sound of steel on steel. I remember floating lost in an immense sea as booming water roared around me.

  Lastly, I remember climbing up a sharp slope to stand on a wind-bitten rock ledge in a blood-red dawn…

  When I awoke all was well with me once more. The battle frenzy that had come on me was gone and I was myself. My mother regarded me closely, and pressed her hand to my forehead, but allowed that whatever ailment had possessed me had vanished. 'We were worried, Merlin,' she told me. 'We thought you had been wounded, but there is not so much as a bruise on you, son. How do you feel?'

  'I am well, Mother.' That was all I said. There was no explaining what had happened when I did not know myself.

  After breaking fast, I heard a commotion outside and walked out into the forecourt where I found Maelwys surrounded by his houseguard – some of whom had fought with us the day before. Rarely were all of them at the villa, however, as he kept them circulating his lands, riding the borders, keeping watch.

  News of the attack had summoned those who had not been present the day before, both warriors and chiefs. There were many townspeople there as well, swelling the ranks of those gathered in the forecourt.

  Maelwys had been speaking to them but, when I came out, silence descended over the throng. Thinking only to join them, I came to stand beside the king. A man pushed his way to me, and I saw that it was Blaise.

  He raised his staff and lifted his voice in song:

  'Three thirties of bold warriors have gone down before

  the thirsty blade; The blood of the vanquished is silent,

  black is their mourning;

  The eyes of the enemy feed the birds of death;

  let each mouth make entreaty.

  From the heart of the hero a champion springs -

  great of skill, a giant in battle;

  He has hewn the savage with sharp steel;

  terrible were their war cries.

  Hail him men of valour; exalt him in your midst;

  let his name rise on wings of welcome!

  Make homage to the Lord of your Deliverance,

  who with walls of iron has defended you.

  Brave men! Princes of noble birth! Make of Myrddin

  a name of praise and honour.

  When he had finished, Blaise lowered his hands and, stooping before me, laid his staff at my feet. Then he backed slowly away. For a moment the people stared in silence. No one moved.

  Then a young warrior – the one I had saved from a fall in the battle, I think – stepped forward. He drew his sword from its sheath at his side and, without a word, laid it beside the druid's staff. Then he knelt down and stretched out his hand to touch my foot.

  One by one, each of the warriors there followed their sword brother's example. They drew out their blades, knelt, and put out their hands to cover my feet. Several of Maelwys' chiefs, caught in the spell, added their swords to the pile and knelt to touch my feet as well.

  It was something warriors did when vowing allegiance to a new battlechief.

  But Maelwys had not been badly injured, let alone killed; he was still a skilled and able leader. I turned to the king to find he had stepped from beside me. I was standing alone before the people. What could this mean?

  'Please, lord,' I whispered, 'this honour is yours.'

  'No,' he declared. 'It is yours alone, Myrddin. The warriors have chosen who they will follow.'

  'But -'

  Maelwys shook his head. 'Let be,' he replied gently. Then, stepping behind me, he raised his hands over my head. 'Hear me, my people. Look upon the one you honour. You have made him your battlechief… ' he paused and lowered his hands to my shoulders, 'This day I make him my son, and heir of all I possess.'

  What?

  Blaise was there and ready. 'This is an auspicious day, lord,' he said, 'allow me to confirm you in your good intent.' So saying, he unwound the rawhide belt from around his waist and bound our hands together at the wrist.

  To Maelwys he said, 'Lord and King, as your hand is bound, is it your wish to bind your life to the son of your wife?'

  'That is my wish.'

  'Will you honour him with sonship, bestowing him with lands and possessions?'

  That I will do gladly.'

  Turning solemnly to me Blaise said, 'Myrddin ap Taliesin, will you accept this man to be your guardian and your guide?'

  It was happening so fast. 'Blaise, I -'

  'Answer now.'

  'As he has accepted me, so will I accept him.' I gripped Maelwys' hand and he gripped mine.

  Blaise drew his knife and nicked our wrists, so that our blood mingled. 'So be it,' he said, untied the thong and released us. Then, indicating the pile of swords at my feet, he said, 'Will you also accept the fealty of these men who have sworn loyalty to you with their lives?'

  'Likewise, I accept the honour and fealty of these brave men. I give my life as pledge to them.'

  A shout went up from the people and the warriors leaped forward and grabbed up their swords and began beating them against their shields, making a terrible din. 'Myrddin! Myrddin! Myrddin!' they cried, my name a chant on their lips.

  Then I was lifted up a
nd carried into Maelwys' hall on the shoulders of my men. As I crossed the threshold, I saw my mother standing just inside the door. Charis had seen all that had taken place and her face glowed with love for me. She stepped towards me and raised her hands, and I saw she held a sword across her palms: the Fisher King's sword.

  I took up the sword and lifted it high. The men around me redoubled their acclaim, shouting and cheering and calling my name. And I sang with joy, until the timbers rang with the sound.

  For this was the day I won my kingdom.

  BOOK TWO

  FOREST LORD

  ONE

  Black is the hand of heaven, blue and black,

  and filled with frozen stars.

  And stars and stars and stars… and stars.

  Who are you, lord?

  What is your name? Why do you look at me so?

  Have you never seen a man disembowelled?

  Have you never seen a living corpse?

  Black is the day. Black is the night.

  And black the hand that covers me.

  Deep in Celyddon's black heart I hide.

  In a forest pool I glimpse the face

  beneath the antlered helm,

  and I stare.

  I stare until the stars stream overhead.

  The red moon screams.

  The birds and wild creatures take flight at my coming.

  The trees taunt me. The flowers of the high meadows turn their

  faces from me.

  The crooked glens echo sharp accusation.

  The racing waters mock me…

  Rain and wind, blast and blow, snow and sun.

  Bright fire of the sun. Silver moon glow.

  Silver water from the soul of the mountain.

  Sing fair stars of heaven! Lift your voices,

  Children of the Living God!

  Sharp as spearpoints are your shining songs. Life and death are they to me.

  Ave! Ave, Imperator!

  Listen to the bleak wind howl through your

  empty halls.

  Listen, High One! Hear the bones of the brave

  rattle in nameless graves.

  King Eagle, attend your offspring;

  lift your hand and sustain them

  with the crumbs of your

  banquet hall.

  They hunger for justice; they weep.

  Only the King of Eagles can ease their craving.

  Rivers flow and waters rise.

  See fast ships fly over the sea.

  Away, away… always away.

  Take flight, my soul, away.

  What is it that remains when life is gone?

  How much of a man endures?

  Like a beast among beasts I go.

  Naked,

  feeding only on the roots of the field,

  drinking only rain,

  I am a man no more.

  Broken rocks bruise my flesh, cold winds wrack

  my sorry bones.

  I am undone!

  I am as one cast out from the hearth of my kinsmen.

  I am as one living in the shadowlands.

  I am as the dead.

  Shall I sing the seasons?

  Shall I sing the ages of our Earth,

  the days of men past and yet to come?

  Shall I sing fair Broceliande?

  Shall I sing drowned Llyonesse?

  Pwyll, bring the Hero's Cup!

  Mathonwy, bring my harp!

  Taliesin, wrap your bright cloak around my shoulders!

  Lieu, gather your people into your bright hall!

  For I shall sing the Kingdom of Summer!

  Mad Merlin… mad… you are mad Merlin… mad…

  TWO

  Oh, Wolf, happy Wolf, monarch of the green-clad hills, you are my only friend. Speak to me now. Give me the benefit of your wise counsel. Be my advocate and my protector.

  Nothing to say, wise friend? What is that? A story?

  If it pleases you, Hill Lord. I take up my harp. Hear, O People of Dust. Hearken well to the tale I shall tell:

  In elder days, when the dew of creation was still fresh on the earth, Great Manawyddan ap Llyr was lord and king over seven cantrefs of Dyfed and this is the way of it.

  Now Manawyddan was brother to Bran the Blessed, who himself was king of the Island of the Mighty, holding all kings and kinglets beneath him, even as he held all lands as his own. But Bran had journeyed to the Otherworld and tarried long, so Manawyddan took the kingship in his brother's place, as was his right to do. And there was not a better king in all the world than Manawyddan, and no better place for a kingdom than the wild hills of Dyfed, for these were the fairest lands in all the world.

  It came about that Pryderi, prince of Gwynedd, came before Manawyddan seeking friendship for their two houses. Manawyddan received him gladly and offered a feast. So, the two friends feasted and took their ease, engaging in pleasant conversation and delighting in the songs of Manawyddan's skilful bard, Anuin Llaw, and the company of Manawyddan's beautiful queen, Rhiannon, of whom many wondrous tales are told.

  After the first evening's sitting, Pryderi turned to Manawyddan. 'I have heard,' said Pryderi to his host, 'that the hunting runs of Dyfed are unmatched by any in the world.'

  'Then you must heartily thank the one who told you, for truer words were never spoken.'

  'Perhaps we might hunt together, you and I,' suggested Pryderi.

  'Why, Cousin, we could go hunting tomorrow – that is, if nothing prevents you,' replied Manawyddan.

  'Indeed, I thought I should grow old in waiting for you to ask,' said Pryderi happily. 'As it happens, nothing prevents me. Let us go tomorrow.'

  On that very morrow, the two friends set out with a company of bold companions. They hunted all the day and at last stopped to rest and water their weary horses. While they waited, they climbed a nearby mound and lay down to sleep. As they slept, there came the sound of thunder; very loud thunder it was, so they awoke. And with the thunder came a thick, dark mist – so thick and so dark that no man could see his companion next to him.

  When the mist finally lifted, it was bright everywhere, so that they bunked their eyes and put up their hands. When they lowered their hands once more, however, they looked out and saw that everything had changed. No more were there trees or rivers or flocks or dwellings. No animal, no smoke, no fire, no man, nothing save the hills, and those were empty, too.

  'Alas, lord!' cried Manawyddan, 'What has become of our company and the rest of my kingdom? Let us go and find them if we can.'

  They returned to Manawyddan's palace and found only briars and thorns in the place where his sparkling hall had been. In vain they searched the valleys and glens, trying to spot a dwelling or settlement, but only a few sickly birds did they see. And they both began to feel mournful for their loss – Manawyddan for his wife Rhiannon, who was waiting for him in their chamber, and all his brave company as well; and Pryderi for his companions and the fine gifts Manawyddan had given him.

  There was nothing to be done, so they kindled a fire with the briar thickets and slept that night hungry on the cold, hard ground. In the morning they heard the sound of dogs barking, as dogs will when the scent of game inflames them.

  'What can that mean?' wondered Pryderi.

  'Why stand here wondering when we can find out?' said Manawyddan and leaped up at once to saddle his horse.

  They rode in the direction of the sound and came to a birch copse in a hidden glen. At their approach a score of fine hunting hounds came racing from the copse, shaking violently with fear, their tails low between their haunches. 'Unless I miss my guess,' remarked Pryderi upon seeing the dogs, 'some enchantment lies upon this little wood.'

  No sooner had he spoken these same words, when out of the copse burst a shining white boar. The dogs cowered to see it, but after much urging, took up the trail and ran after it. The men followed until they drew near to where the boar stood at bay against the hounds.

  Upon seeing the men, the white boa
r broke free and ran off once more. Again the men gave chase and again found the boar at bay against the hounds, and again the boar broke free when they came near.

  Well, they pursued the boar until they came to a great fortress which neither of them had ever seen before, and they marvelled to see it. The hounds and the boar ran inside the stronghold and though the two men listened for the dog's barking, as long as they stayed they heard not a sound more.

  'Lord,' said Pryderi, 'If you will, I shall enter this fortress and seek what has become of the dogs.'

  'Lieu knows that is not a good idea,' replied Manawyddan. 'Neither you nor I have ever seen this fortress before, and if you ask my counsel, it is this: stay far from this strange place. It may be that whoever has placed the enchantment on the land has caused this fortress to appear.'

  'It may be as you say, but I am loath to give up those fine hounds.' So, Manawyddan's good advice notwithstanding, Pryderi urged his reluctant horse forward and entered the gate of the fortress which was before them.

  Once inside, however, he could see neither man nor beast nor boar nor dogs nor hall nor chamber. What he did discover was a great stand of marble stone. And hanging above the stand by four golden chains, whose ends extended upward so that he could not see any end to them, was a huge bowl of the finest gold he had ever seen, and Pryderi was no stranger to fine gold.

  He approached the marble stand and saw Rhiannon, Manawyddan's wife, standing still as the stone itself, her hand touching the bowl.

  'Lady,' said Pryderi, 'what do you here?'

  As she made no answer, and as the bowl was of dazzling beauty, Pryderi thought no ill and came to where she stood and put his hands on the bowl. In the selfsame instant that he touched the bowl his hands stuck to the bowl and his feet stuck to the stand, and there he stood as one made of stone.

  Awhile and awhile Manawyddan waited, but Pryderi did not return, and neither did the dogs. 'Well,' he said to himself, 'there is nothing to be done but go in after him.' And in he went.

  There he saw, as Pryderi had seen, the magnificent golden bowl hanging by its golden chains. He saw his wife Rhiannon with her hand to the bowl, and Pryderi likewise. 'Lady wife,' he said, 'friend Pryderi, what do you here?'