"Old man, we think we need your car more than you do," said one young man as he stepped in front of Merlin to block the sidewalk. "Hand over the keys."
Merlin looked directly into the eyes of a youngish human male - he estimated 19 years old and strong. He obviously did what humans called "working out". Merlin counted another five males - equally well-muscled - lounging against his parked car about ten feet in front of him. The young men all wore complicated tattoos of faux Celtic warriors on their arms and faces. Merlin ignored the designs. He'd seen and worn the real thing and those worn by the young men would have been meaningless in the heady days of Vercingetorix. These young men were simply pretenders.
He ignored the two females sitting in the car; their energy patterns showed they were not fully engaged with this potential violence other than as spectators. That could not be said for the six young men. All appeared ready and willing to do battle and were broadcasting this message so loudly even a blind person could have read it. Merlin had seen this energy pattern countless times in his past and he himself had worn it more than once. A random thought flashed across his mind - he'd worn his own battle energy much brighter and more defiantly than these young men were displaying or could possibly imagine.
A moment of silence followed as Merlin briefly considered his options for retreating gracefully or for retrieving his car so as not to have to damage the humans, but they were narrowed as one young man suddenly stretched out both arms and moved aggressively forward.
Merlin's body seemingly moved without his thinking or under his control as his hand snaked out to grab one of the young man's arms, and pull it toward him so the young man was off balance. His other hand formed into a striking fist and lashed out directly into the young man's throat. The youth stopped. His hands went to his throat, his knees crumpled and he landed in a praying position in front of Merlin. Merlin smashed his open palm against the gasping youth's ear. The eardrum ruptured and the young man screamed in agony as the blow drove him sprawling on the pavement. He lay screaming as the other young men launched themselves off the car towards Merlin.
The videotape that Ross saw the next morning at MI5 showed it took Merlin less than a minute to leave all of his attackers helpless on the street. Merlin had turned into a whirlwind of human destruction moving from one of the men to the other in a seemingly effortless dance of fists and feet striking vulnerable points on a human body. It was a dance that only ended when all six of the young men lay writhing on the street. Ross had to slow the video to extreme slow motion to fully grasp the speed and power of Merlin's fists and feet. Even then he felt compelled to replay it several time to catalog every blow.
The tape also showed the two women almost launching themselves out of the car in an effort to get away from Merlin after he'd destroyed the young men. Skirts pulled up around their waists, they wobbled down the street as fast as they could on their fashionable high-heeled shoes. Merlin ignored them.
Rose noted none of the blows were killing ones and Merlin seemed to be pulling his strikes just enough to damage, but not kill the six men. The hospital records indicated the men's bodies would spend various amounts of time healing but none would escape a lifetime of disability of some form.
The video showed Merlin ignoring the injured young men to slowly walk around his car. He touched several points here and there, leaned over at one point to peer closely at something - the video wasn't good enough to show what he was looking at - and completed a full circuit of the machine. He then pulled open the driver's side door, seated himself, attached a seatbelt, and drove away.
None of the videos showed Merlin releasing the spirit of the Hamadryad to the woods beyond the city limits later that same evening, or the tears on his cheeks as he did so.
Merlin Declares War
Sitting in the Cardiff house the next morning, Merlin didn't give a second thought to the young men who'd just paid for the death of the young Hamadryad. He did consider the idea of retreating to his as yet unfound location and home in Newcastle, but then abandoned the idea after considering how quickly the security forces had found him using the CCTV.
Then he reconsidered the move. They hadn't found him at home here in Cardiff, they'd found him using a tourist webcam at the well. His home was still safe for the moment.
He reviewed each of the interactions with the government and decided that if they wanted to play games, or worse to pick a fight, they had picked the wrong person. He took a deep breath, relaxed and put himself into a trance. Once in the trance, he commanded 20% of his attention to guard himself in the as yet unfound Cardiff home. The remaining 80% soared away from his body connected only by a thin, silver thread of energy.
He searched for the MI5 Director Campbell's energy signature, found it, and moved himself to hang invisible and unheard in the corner of the room while the conference was ongoing.
He heard the Director say that he had no problem ordering Merlin's death and that was all it took to convince Merlin that the battle was joined in this new version of his geas.
If the people in the room were expecting a cartoon figure with a long robe and pipe, they were sadly disappointed when Merlin suddenly appeared in his black, pointed-toe cowboy boots, blue jeans, black T-shirt, and his favourite black leather jacket. His kindly smile was well hidden, and his lively green eyes had been replaced with eyes so cold they could have been black. Power poured off him in waves and while he appeared calm and collected, the room crackled with energy. Papers rattled on the table and full water glasses shivered as he sauntered, from the corner where he had appeared, to the head of the table.
Director Campbell reached for his cell phone, realized he didn't have it, and abruptly stood and started striding towards the door.
Merlin glanced at him, flicked a single finger, and the man crumpled nervelessly before he could take a second step. His head made a hollow sound as it bounced off the old wood floors.
"He's fine," Merlin said to the others around the table. "I didn't kill him this time. He's awake but can't respond."
Merlin sauntered to the head of the table and casually kicked one of Campbell's feet out of the way so that he could pull a chair away from the table. He sat, laced his hands behind his head and tilted back so that the chair was on its back two legs.
"Those of you who were expecting me to be a grey-robed figure out of an American cartoon may be disappointed. I'm real, and if you continue down this road you will force me to deal with each of you and the security services as my enemies rather than as my friends," said Merlin. He dropped all four of the chair legs down onto the floor, sat up straight, leaned forward, put his elbows on the table and carefully examined each of the six pale faces, disbelief written plainly on each one, staring back at him
"Now that I have your attention, it is important to understand that I am the oldest person you will ever meet. I was born well before the Romans came to this country and I have watched wave after wave of invader roll up to spend its energy on these shores. You are only the latest genetic code, and while you call yourselves English now, you work against everything this country was, and has stood for.
I also represent the other realms, the unseen ones that you displaced, and it is time you took note of them and recognize their history and culture in this land.
In short, I am currently working on an important project and I don't want, need, or require your presence and participation. I hope that's clear. And I hope you don't misinterpret this as a friendly warning. It is not friendly," said Merlin.
Merlin stood. The others did not move a muscle except for their eyes and these never left his face. "This one was warned," he said looking down at the Director at his feet.
The man opened his eyes, met Merlin's gaze but broke eye contact after a single second. Looking into Merlin's angry eyes and trying to intimidate him was like sticking your head into the very centre of a hot fire and hoping not to lose more than your eyelashes.
"He is a fool," said Merlin. "Pity. Men who h
ave had his position in the past have seldom been fools, but this man…." Merlin left the thought hanging.
He disappeared.
Wide-eyed, the six left sitting around the table looked around at each other.
The Director pushed himself to a sitting position, his anger and fear, mixed together in equal proportions, played across his face. He used the edge of the table to pull himself upright, took a deep breath to control his shaking. He leaned over and put both hands on the table. As he met the eyes of each staff member around the table, he said. "This must stop. Now!" Each word was emphasized clearly and distinctly.
Those around the table could only nod in agreement.
Merlin Releases The Staff
The next day as the sun was breaking over the skyline to peer through the trees in front of Merlin's home, the staff - which never slept - pinged the wizard. Merlin didn't sleep as normal humans do but instead he went into a trance that allowed him to rebuild his energy stores while his mind worked on problems he'd lined up for it to solve. He may have appeared to be sleeping to those who didn't appreciate or understand the difference, but to the staff, he was merely busy doing something else. And at this moment, the staff wanted his full attention.
"OK, I'm here and yours," said Merlin. "What's so important to drag me away from sorting out all those security players and what they intend to do next?"
The staff began to explain the key to the human problem was in their technology but Merlin interrupted it.
"Yes, I know," said Merlin. "We're incredibly capable but we're outnumbered. They have eyes everywhere. They have machines to do their thinking. This means of course they can no longer think for themselves and without a phone in their hands, they are ignorant savages. No, strike that with an apology to the savages. Savages aren't ignorant. Savages may be uneducated but their wisdom about their environment outstrips modern man by immeasurable amounts. Did you know…"
The staff interrupted to explain that one of them had to learn how to speak to all of these human machines.
"Well, yes it would be useful to be able to do this. Surely. But I'm afraid it may be beyond me to learn a machine language. You, of all people, know how I'm struggling with even the most basic of things lately. And no, I don't know why," said Merlin. He listened for a few seconds and then began again in a testy tone of voice, "Yes, you always were better at languages than I was but I'm no slouch you know."
The staff agreed with Merlin and then went silent.
Merlin stared at the staff for a few minutes. Then, slowly but surely, a smile crept stealthily across his face. "You've lost none of your subtlety my friend. You want me to set you to learn computer languages and you'll translate those as well as you translate human tongues," he said.
The staff sent a victory march directly to Merlin's ears.
Merlin laughed uproariously and it took him a minute or two to subside into mere giggles. "You haven't changed a bit. You always get what you want in the end, don't you?" said Merlin.
The staff didn't respond and Merlin's smile didn't change.
"Of course I give you my blessing to explore human computer systems and languages. And good luck to you in figuring out how they work. And yes, I see how happy you are - you don't need to put sparklers into my beard."
He paused for just a second and then added, "Just go and figure out how humans were smart enough to create a language they all speak but that doesn't say anything they understand."
The green in Merlin's eyes glowed brighter as he talked to his staff. He'd missed this interchange with this sentient being that knew him as well as he knew himself. He suspected it was what humans called love. He couldn't describe the feeling any more than he could describe what his staff was or how it had become endowed with its powers. It was one of life's mysteries he'd have to figure out some day. He snorted out loud. His "someday list" never seemed to get any shorter but grew year by year. Ah - he thought - that's what keeps me young. He frowned for a second and wondered how young he really felt this morning. But then a flicker of a thought went across his consciousness that he was as good as he ever was. He grabbed at it like a drowning man reaches for a life preserver.
He considered his staff's task for a moment longer and wondered what it would take to learn computer languages and what kind of brain found them so easily learned.
Security Finds Him In Cardif
During breakfast with his mates the next morning, Ross received a text from Officer Smithers suggesting rather strongly he make an appearance at the office sooner rather than later. He endured the jibes that flowed from his friends about being called in and being so obviously important as he went through the details of paying and leaving the restaurant. He did manage to get his last piece of toast onto a napkin and ate it as he marched, as fast as his leg would allow, the ten city blocks to the office. He regretted having to leave his third cup of coffee as the office coffee was something short of drinkable by his standards.
That regret, and the throbbing of his leg, was forgotten when he walked into the office area to see Smithers beckoning him to his office. "Don't worry about hanging your coat, you'll need it," said Smithers across the room. Ross angled towards Smithers' office and saw his superior stand back to let him in. Once inside, Smithers closed the door but didn't move away from it.
"We've got another sighting of the magician. He's in Cardiff. He moves around faster than anybody else we've ever tried to track. I want you to get back to that CCTV warehouse and find him. I've already called ahead and they've got the programming set up and running. All we need you to do is babysit the process. And when he's found, we're going to take another approach on this one and do it differently. We're going to observe him rather than try to apprehend him right away. We'll try for a tranquilizing shot rather than a raid. All you need to do now though is ensure the techs don't slough this search off. Got it?" said Smithers.
"Yes, Sir," said Ross. "Just watch to ensure the search isn't ignored. Then make sure the results are sent immediately over here," said Ross. He added, "Sir, do you want me to bring a copy back just in case?"
Smithers didn't hesitate, "Good thought. Call me when the file is being sent and I'll watch for it to ensure it doesn't get to the spam folder. And bring a copy with you just in case." Smithers thought for a second. "Can't think of anything else. So off you go."
Given the tone of voice Smithers used, Ross instinctively felt as if he should salute before leaving but he shoved that feeling down. On his first day at MI5, he'd been rather officiously told that saluting wasn't necessary at MI5 when he snapped one off after receiving his first order."
Another rather tedious journey across the city brought him, once again, to the CCTV warehouse but this time, he was directed to the fourth floor rather than the first. Other than the numbering of the floor, the room looked exactly the same. One large room with standard office dividers honeycombed the floor space. And every wall or divider was covered with monitors. This floor handled all of Wales and he was directed to the far back corner to the section examining Cardiff.
"Ah, you're the MI5 officer. Welcome to our small corner of the world, Sir," said the young woman operating the control panel. Ross noticed she glanced towards his hand checking for a wedding band. Her face didn't change when she saw one. Ross noted she wasn't wearing one but soon forgot the thought as she explained the search pattern they were running. She had Merlin's picture sitting in front of her on a very small monitor as a reference for when the larger CCTV system identified possible matches.
"So what's this one done?" she asked.
"Unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to say," said Ross with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Ah, it's like that then," she said. "Well then, we're going to track down for this gentleman for you and the two of you can discuss it afterwards." She turned back to the monitors in a pique, thought better of it, and turned back to Ross.
"Sir, I'm not sure how long…" she began.
Ross interrupted, "Tea. Can I brin
g you one?" Ross enjoyed her laugh.
"Ah, been here before have we? I'd love one, Sir. But don't rush. But then you probably know that already," she said through another soft laugh.
Ross nodded and smiled back at the young woman as he rose to get them both a pot of hot tea.
She stopped him with a question, "Ever been to America?"
He looked at her and decided it was a strange kind of question. "No, why?" he asked.
"Just back from there on holiday. They give you the tea bag in a cup of lukewarm water. The water is never boiling. It's the worst kind of treatment for good tea you can imagine. But then again, they don't usually serve good tea in restaurants over there. Heathens they are," she said.
Ross laughed. "I'll be sure to do it right," he said.
She smiled at him and turned back to her monitoring system.
Ross turned, found the staircase and descended the five levels of stairs down to the cafeteria basement where he hoped he'd find hot, boiling water and a pottery teapot for it. On the way down the stairs to the cafeteria, he realized he'd just been told how the young woman preferred her tea and that she didn't quite trust him to get it right. Devious, he thought. Devious.
Ten minutes later, carrying a tray with two teapots freshly filled with boiling water and the requisite tea bags steeping happily, cups, and small packets of sugar and real cream, Ross hustled back up the stairs before the water had a chance to cool. He triumphantly placed them on a bare spot on the work station just beside the young woman and received a grateful glance in return. Filling their respective cups, they raised them to each other and sipped contentedly as video images flashed on the screens in front of them.
"That's him," said Ross as a still picture of Merlin thrashing the young men appeared on the screen. "Grab the video, if you would," he added.
The Mage Returns Page 8
