The Old Magic

by James Mallory

  Mab hugged herself in triumph, then gazed upward, toward the World of Men. She had sensed it the moment it had happened. The echoes of his act had swept through the living rock and made Mab’s crystal cave ring with the sound of fairy bells. She felt a wild excitement rising in her blood. The eve of her people’s deliverance was at hand. In the moment Merlin had called upon the magical power that was her gift to him, he had set foot upon the path that led to his destiny and bound himself to her forever.

  “He’s mine now—and he’ll never leave me!” she whispered.

  “Madame!” Frik bustled in, breathless. He was wearing fringed buckskins and a coonskin cap, and carried a rifle in his hand. Another of his ridiculous masquerades. Mab flicked her fingers, and the rifle turned into a snake.

  “Eek!” Frik squealed, startled into dropping it. The snake slithered across the floor and then turned into a length of rope. Frik stared at it forlornly.

  “Well?” Mab demanded. “Now that you’ve disturbed me: Why?”

  “Great news, Madame,” Frik said. “News that you’ve been waiting for. I’ve been spying on Ambrosia, just as you directed. Well, today I thought that just for a change I’d follow young Master Merlin about—just for a bit of diversion, you know—and what do you think I found? Master Merlin has used his magic!”

  Mab rose to her feet, fists clenched. Her green eyes burned into Frik’s until his face lost its pleased expression. “Don’t you think I know that? Do you think that my child—mine—could embrace his birthright without my knowledge? I am the Queen of the Old Ways, the mistress of all magic!”

  “Go!” she commanded. “Bring my son to me!”

  Merlin ran through the woods toward Ambrosia’s hut. He’d stopped along the way to try to wash the worst of the mud off, but the attempt hadn’t been much of a success. Water was still dripping from his tunic and breeches when he reached the hut, bursting with news.

  “I’ve seen her!” he said as he came through the door. “The most beautiful girl in the world, the only girl I’ll ever love, I know it. And she loves me, and we’ll love each other always.”

  Ambrosia looked up and smiled as she saw him, then her expression sharpened into one of motherly concern. “What are you babbling about, young Merlin?” she scolded affectionately. “And you’re dripping wet! Off with those clothes!”

  He pulled his tunic off over his head as Ambrosia went to get a towel out of the linen chest. She carried it over and began vigorously drying his hair. “You’ll catch your death,” she chided, but Merlin was still thinking about Nimue.

  “I’m a hero, too; I saved her.”

  “Saved who?” asked Ambrosia. “From what?”

  “Nimue—Nimue—Nimue—” Merlin sang. “She’s the daughter of some lord. She fell into a mudhole and I saved her.”

  “Very brave of you, dear,” Ambrosia said, draping the towel about his shoulders. But Merlin could tell her attention was wandering, and he was determined to regain it.

  “But the extraordinary thing was how I saved her. I took this branch, and I somehow made it grow.”

  Caught up in his own retelling, Merlin did not see the expression on his foster-mother’s face. Her face had gone grim, and she took a step backwards.

  “I know it sounds impossible,” Merlin went on, “but I said, ‘Grow! Grow!’ and somehow, that made it grow, and … what’s the matter, Auntie A?”

  He grabbed her as she swayed dizzily. Her face had gone pale and suddenly all the laugh lines in it had disappeared.

  “Tell me what’s the matter!” Merlin demanded.

  “It’s the moment I’ve been dreading all these years … since the very day you were born. Merlin, it’s time for you to leave.”

  “Leave?” Merlin said, confused. “I don’t understand.”

  Ambrosia sighed heavily as she settled into the chair beside the hearth. She stared into the flames for a long moment before she spoke, as if she were gathering her strength. “I’ve never told you how you came to be born—nor much about the Old Ways. Was that a mistake? I don’t know. If it was, it’s too late to mend it now. But long before you were born, I served the Queen of the Old Ways, until … well, let’s just say we agreed to differ. I left off being a priestess, and I wandered until I came to Avalon. There I met your mother, Elissa.”

  Merlin knelt beside her chair. He was fascinated. Ambrosia had never been willing to talk about his past before. “And my father?” he asked eagerly.

  “Let me tell this in my own way,” Ambrosia said, patting his hand. “In those days, the Holy Grail of the new religion was still at Avalon, and Elissa was training to be one of those who watched over it. When the Grail vanished and she was cast out of Avalon, I brought her here to the forest to live with me, and soon you were born. I raised you and loved you, because you were a very special child.”

  “But—” Merlin began.

  “You have no father, you see,” Ambrosia said. “There’s magic at work here. You were created by Queen Mab to be her champion, and that’s why Elissa died giving birth to you. When you were born, Mab claimed you as her son, but I made her leave you with me, so you could grow up in your mother’s world. But you are half Mab’s as well, so she proclaimed that you could stay here only as long as you never called upon the magic of the Old Ways. Now you have, and she wants you to join her.”

  “I won’t go!” Merlin said. “I’ll defy her.”

  Ambrosia reached out and ruffled Merlin’s damp hair. “You have no choice, my dear. You cannot fight her—not yet.” She lifted his chin and made him look at her. “You must be brave. Your time will come.”

  “I don’t want to leave you,” Merlin said. He buried his face in her lap.

  Suddenly there was a sizzling sound, like bacon being dropped onto a hot skillet. A bright light like the noonday sun shone through the open door of the hut. Ambrosia gasped, and Merlin raised his head.

  *Come with me, Master Merlin.*

  For a moment Merlin thought it was the white stag, come back again, but this magic was far more powerful. A white horse stood at the edge of the clearing, glowing as brightly as a candle flame. He seemed to be standing just above the ground, his silver hooves not even touching the earth.

  *You’re to come with me. I will take you to the Land of Magic.* The horse tossed his head, and Merlin could see that he wore a saddle and bridle of gleaming gold.

  “He’s talking to me,” Merlin said slowly. He got to his feet and stood, staring at the horse. His heart beat with excitement and fear. The magic was part of him. It was his destiny. But at the same time, it was a giant step into the unknown, and one he was reluctant to take. “He says I have to go with him. I don’t, do I, Auntie A?”

  Behind him, Ambrosia was rummaging through a clothes chest. She pulled out his best tunic, and a warm cloak of new wool that she’d spent the whole summer making. She came up beside Merlin and handed him the tunic. Once he’d struggled into it, she wrapped the cloak around his shoulders.

  “This will keep you warm on cold nights,” she said, not answering his question.

  Merlin searched her face, beginning to be more afraid than excited. The only mother he’d ever known was sending him away to live with the mysterious and powerful Queen of the Old Ways. Merlin wrapped the cloak about himself, looking from the shining stallion to Ambrosia.

  “Auntie A—” he began.

  “Now, now, chin up,” she said, interrupting what he’d been about to say. “Remember what Herne and Blaise and I have told you. Magic has no power over the human heart, and in her way, as far as she can, I suppose Mab does love you. Just don’t forget what I taught you. Never stop trying to be good and fighting for what’s right.”

  “I won’t. I love you, Auntie A,” Merlin said.

  Ambrosia hugged him fiercely, as if this might be the last time. “And tell Her Royal High and Mighty Queen Mab that magic or no magic, if she hurts you in any way, I’ll have her guts for garters!” She kissed him firmly on the forehead.
>
  Merlin stepped back. His eye fell on the pieces of the milk jug he’d broken, waiting on a shelf for someone to mend them. Had it only been this morning that he’d broken them? It seemed as if he’d lived a lifetime since then.

  “Go on,” Ambrosia whispered, smiling.

  Merlin raised his hand in a half-wave, then turned and began to trudge toward the impatiently-waiting white horse. By the time he was halfway across the clearing, the lighthearted optimism of youth had reasserted itself, and he was running to embrace his destiny.

  Ambrosia watched Merlin mount the white horse and ride away. When she was sure he could no longer see her, her face crumpled into tears, and she raised her apron to cover her eyes.

  Of all the things she’d ever done in her life, the hardest thing of all of them had been to let him ride to Mab without a single word of warning.

  The horse beneath him ran like the wind, and instead of hoofbeats, Merlin heard the sound of silver bells. All around him, the familiar forest was subtly different, as if now he saw it through different eyes. Tiny winged people flitted through the air, their voices as high and shrill as bats’. At the roots of trees were diminutive figures wearing pointed red caps and bright green coats. Perched on a tree branch, a griffin watched him hungrily, fanning its golden wings.

  “Where are we going?” Merlin shouted to his mount. Though he’d never ridden before, he had no trouble staying on the animal’s back. It was as if anything involving magic was somehow familiar to him.

  *To the Enchanted Lake that leads to the Land of Magic, Master Merlin,* the horse responded. Though Merlin thought the horse was already running at top speed, it began to run even faster, so that Merlin had to cling tightly to the saddle and speech became impossible.

  They reached the edge of the forest and crossed it, and now Merlin was riding through a land he’d never even seen before. The countryside was one of green and rolling hills, passing almost in a blur. Only a few distant huts and cart tracks were visible, and it occurred to Merlin fleetingly that no matter how much wickedness King Vortigern had been responsible for, it had not affected the land.

  Then even those few signs of habitation were gone, and the landscape was as wild and untouched as it had been before the first people had lived here. In the distance, Merlin could see a silvery gleam, which slowly grew and broadened until Merlin knew he was staring at the Enchanted Lake. By small degrees, the horse began to slow, until it was trotting, then walking, then stopped. Merlin slid from its back and stared out over the lake. A boat was coming toward them, gliding silently over the calm surface of the enchanted lake.

  “Is the Land of Magic on the other shore?” Merlin asked.

  *No. What lies across the Enchanted Lake depends on who seeks it, and what they seek.*

  Merlin shook his head in puzzlement, and when he looked up the boat had reached the shore.

  It was made of a rich silvery wood, with a band of runes carved about its hull. The prow and the stern tapered to high points, and there were neither oars nor sails aboard it. Inside the boat, Merlin could see a couple of benches covered in purple velvet for the passengers to sit on.

  “Thank you,” Merlin said to the horse. It shook its silvery mane at him and did not answer. “I suppose I’m supposed to get into the boat?” he said reluctantly.

  The horse backed away, watching Merlin with wary eyes. Merlin glanced from the horse to the boat. This was it. He could probably still find his way back to the forest from here, but once he boarded the boat he would have no choice but to go where it took him. There’d be no turning back.

  But if he thought he could turn back now, Merlin realized, he was only kidding himself. He was only half-human. The other half of himself—whatever it was—lay at the boat’s destination.

  Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and climbed into the boat. It began to move off at once, as though some invisible force was drawing it along. He stumbled backward at the motion, and sat down hard on one of the velvet benches.

  This was it, then. There was nothing to do but wait.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE COURTS OF FAIRY

  Looking behind him, Merlin saw the shore and the shining white spark of the magic horse dwindle and vanish in the distance, but the opposite shore of the lake still did not appear. He felt excited and uneasy about what was to come; even now he was quickly coming to realize what a haven the forest had been for him, and how sheltered from the real world he’d been as he grew up there. Everything that had happened to him since this morning was so strange and new, and yet he wasn’t frightened by any of it. In a sense, it was as if he were coming home. He knew very little about Mab and the Old Ways … But now all that will change, he thought to himself.

  How it would change was something Merlin did not stop to consider.

  As the boat travelled across the glassy lake, a mist began to rise up off the water almost like steam from a pot of soup. He did not notice it at first, but as the light dimmed Merlin glanced behind him to see how far away the shore was, and saw that in scant moments the mist had veiled the shoreline and the very water itself from his sight. When he looked back toward the bow, he saw that a great stone crag was rising out of the mists of the lake where there had been nothing but still waters a moment before.

  Merlin stared at it, marvelling at its sudden appearance. As the boat sailed closer, he could see a cave opening in the base of the knoll, an opening that gaped as black and threatening as a dragon’s maw.

  They were going to sail inside.

  This was the first time it had occurred to Merlin that his journey might take him underground, and he was unprepared for the sharp pang of pure panic that possessed him. He clutched at the side of the boat until his knuckles ached, and after a moment he realized he was calculating the best way to jump into the lake and swim back to a shore he could no longer see.

  Don’t be silly, Merlin told himself chidingly. The only things that are in a cave are bats and bears. The boat wouldn’t be sailing into it if it weren’t safe! And Mab is waiting for you.

  His apprehension faded as curiosity got the better of him. When he met Queen Mab, he would understand the other half of his heritage, and that was something he longed to do.

  The boat was close enough now to the cave for Merlin to feel the wind that blew from its mouth. It was colder than the surrounding air, but instead of the lifeless scent Merlin associated with caves, this breeze smelled of something he could not put a name to.

  Magic?

  The prow of the boat passed with slow majesty through the cave opening. Looking up, Merlin saw the rock seem to rise up and crest over him like a breaking wave. A shudder of excitement passed through his body as he passed from light into shadow. Now the roof of the cave was his sky, and when he looked back, his view of the enchanted lake was framed by rock.

  The sound of the water slapping against the sides of his boat was loud now as it echoed from the walls, and the boat jostled gently in the choppy water as it continued through the cave-turned-tunnel. A faint light seemed to radiate from everywhere, so that he could still see what ought to have been dark, and it seemed to Merlin as if every sense he possessed was being tantalized by some essence he could not yet sense. There was music he could not hear, sights he could not see, just out of the reach of his mortal senses. He was beginning a great adventure.

  This was magic.

  Frik ran down the path to the boat landing, trying to run and dress and gather his thoughts all at once. The great day had come, when the second stage of Mab’s plan would debut. Merlin was coming home to them.

  Frik did hope the boy’s arrival would put Her Majesty into a better temper. She’d been very touchy since Julius Caesar had invaded Britain, but the divine Julius hadn’t been one-tenth the trouble that Constant and his new religion had been. Once the mortals had started pulling down her shrines instead of stuffing them full of Roman gods, she’d been quite impossible. And of course, Vortigern simply made things worse. And he’d been
all Mab’s idea.

  Oh, well, the gnome thought to himself, least said, soonest mended. At least having Merlin to teach would take Mab’s mind off of him for a while. Frik hadn’t at all liked living beneath the constant threat of rockhood. What if Mab forgot about him and just left him to be a rock forever? It gave a chap the cold wobblies just thinking about it.

  And he did have to admit that he was interested in getting to know this Merlin. Of course, Her Highness was always bringing home these seven-year stands, like that Thomas Whatsisname who’d wanted to be a poet. Remarkably bad verse, if Frik remembered, and eventually Mab had gotten so tired of him that she’d put a curse on him to tell nothing but the truth. That had set the fellow packing! But that sort of interlude wasn’t like getting to know a mortal. Merlin would be—was—different. Though Frik had kept a weather eye on Merlin through his childhood, he’d been spying from a distance. This would be a chance to get to know the young mortal on his own terms.

  But young Merlin wasn’t quite mortal, Frik reminded himself. He was Mab’s child, half-fairy. He belonged as much in the Land of Magic as he belonged upon Earth.

  And what if—now that she has Merlin—she doesn’t need you at all? The thought gave Frik a momentary pause, but he brushed it aside. Merlin was to be Mab’s champion, not a member of her household. No matter what, she would continue to need someone of Frik’s caliber to manage her establishment.

  Frik came to a stop, peering into the bank of mist that hid the mouth of the cave. The boat should be here any minute. He’d been supposed to go with it to greet Merlin, but to be perfectly frank, Frik and the Lady of the Lake weren’t on the best of terms, and he’d been just as glad to miss the boat. So to speak.

  Only now, as he waited for the magic barge to come back, his mind was filled with all the things that could have gone wrong in the mortal world. He wasn’t sure he could find any place secluded enough to wait out Mab’s displeasure if any of them had actually happened.

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” Frik murmured to himself, checking the time with a large gold pocket watch. Just as he was about to despair, a dark shape appeared in the mist, and the prow of the barge appeared. There was a figure seated amidships. Frik heaved a sigh of relief. Merlin.