Merlin's Travels (An Untimely Error Book 2)

by Tom Larcombe

“Not yet. Can Merlin and I get some breakfast first?” Nimue asked.

  “Plus, Nimue and I will need to take care of the other part of Praesagium's gift before we leave. He said before we leave Anglesey but I think that what he wants us to do will work better if we're closer to him,” Merlin added.

  “What gift?” Nimue asked.

  “Just what is the other part of the gift?” Brenda asked.

  Merlin slid the two scales out from the pocket he'd placed them in.

  “I believe he wants us to set these up as repositories of power, like the one I found in Germany was.”

  Brenda stared at the scales.

  “He hoards his scales jealously. How did you get those?”

  “Anguis brought them, along with a note, when he returned this morning.”

  Brenda's face showed a flash of anger before settling into a resolved look.

  “I suppose I shouldn't doubt Praesagium's judgment. How much extra time will you need?”

  “Maybe fifteen extra minutes after we eat,” Merlin said.

  Brenda nodded her head and walked over to sit with Gwyddon.

  “I wish you'd have told me about the gift first,” Nimue said.

  “Sorry, we just received them this morning. Praesagium sent them back with Anguis and a note,” Merlin said.

  He passed the note to Nimue who scanned it.

  “I still wish you'd told me first, but...”

  “You told me to leave the room and you weren't really awake yet. Wait until you see Anguis now if you think the scales are impressive,” he said.

  Nimue and Merlin were served bread, reconstituted dried eggs, fried potatoes, and beer to drink.

  “It's amazing how much use they get out of the things that aren't rationed,” Merlin said as the food was placed in front of them.

  “It seems whoever planned the rationing allowed for several comfort foods to remain un-rationed. Makes a lot of sense, whoever thought of it,” Nimue replied.

  The two finished their breakfast quickly, then went outside. A two minute walk took them to the open field that led to Praesagium's home.

  “Let me watch you put the ward on first?” Merlin asked. “I still don't do it with as little power as you.”

  Nimue nodded. She opened herself to the magic and her eyes widened..

  “I don't think you need to worry about that this time. Have you noticed the level of magic here?”

  Merlin opened himself as well and power flooded into him.

  “I noticed last night but didn't pay close attention to it. This is as strong as, or even stronger than, the level of power we had access to before my long sleep. No wonder there are so many wizards in Wales. Could you imagine finding all this power and then leaving again?”

  “Yes,” she said, “after all, we're going to.”

  Merlin sighed.

  “Yes we are, but we'll come back if we have the chance.”

  Nimue nodded her agreement and began to place the power retention ward on her scale. Merlin followed suit, trying to conserve power as best as he could, simply for the practice.

  Once the wards were in place they charged the scales with as much magic as they would hold. Then they returned to the pub.

  “We're all set now,” Nimue said.

  “Gunter, would you...” Brenda stopped in mid-sentence. “Never mind, you're in no shape for it. Merlin, would you please fill the jerrycan with water? There's a well up the street a bit.”

  Merlin picked up the can and procured the water for her. He watched with his Sight as she performed the transformation of water into petrol.

  “What is that you put into the water before you transmute it?” he asked when she was done.

  Brenda slid into the automobile and sat before answering.

  “A small pellet of congealed petroleum. It gives me a broad outline for the change. I know the difference between that and petrol for the car well since it's mostly a refining process, but the water to petroleum gives me trouble without an example to follow.”

  Merlin nodded, he understood how being able to see what you were trying to change something into would be useful if you weren't familiar enough with it.

  He lifted the jerrycan to fill the car's fuel tank and found the whole thing noticeably warmer than it was previously.

  Evidently she sends the heat generated by the transmutation into the petrol. I wonder how much heat it would take to get the petrol to ignite. That's how the automobile creates its power. We've got a long drive ahead of us though, and I can take the time to examine the process while it's running, Merlin thought.

  The rest of the group piled into the automobile and they started the drive back to Gaerwen.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  That evening Merlin and Nimue began to meet the new recruits. Gaerwen was a small town and an influx of twenty-five people might have made some eyebrows raise except for the fact that it was also a connecting railway station. Someone had wisely supplied the wizard recruits with something resembling military uniforms, so the town had an acceptable reason for their presence. Merlin even overheard one of them talking to a resident, telling them that the damn Brits were finally accepting more specialist volunteers and this was a call-up for them.

  The recruit's story was irregular but accepted and Merlin wondered if there had been a touch of convincing that wasn't done by speech. Either way, the recruits weren't unnoticed but they weren't considered overly strange either.

  There was something about them that caught Merlin's attention though. He couldn't quite determine exactly what it was for a while. When he finally did, he spoke to Nimue.

  “Nimue, have you noticed that our recruits are missing something?”

  “No, what?”

  “There are no men in that batch that look between the ages of eighteen and fifty and no women between eighteen and thirty. So, I'm guessing the Welsh managed to slide a few of their wizards into the military despite the British telling them no. I wonder how hard it would be to find them. If they're in the war as regular troops, that's a waste. They could do a lot more with additional specialized support.”

  “Talk to John about it when we get back. I think he'd agree with you and he'd know if there was a way to track them down.”

  “I'll do that,” Merlin said.

  As the evening passed, Gunter cornered Merlin at one point.

  “Merlin, I need to ask you a favor,” Gunter said.

  “What do you need Gunter?”

  “I don't know if you were planning on herding these recruits yourself but I'd like you to give me that job.”

  “Why?”

  “Grigor and I were talking. Evidently the Welsh are incredibly non-conformist. I was thinking that it might be better to leave me, as an NCO type, to herd them. You and Nimue play officer. I'll ask you to give a few displays of power that'll scare them into following orders, hopefully long enough to get them back to the base. Then it isn't our problem.”

  “Do we really need to scare them to get them to listen? I thought most of them wanted to be here.”

  “They do but that doesn't mean they'll listen and obey orders. That's part of what training is for, to make obeying the orders of a superior officer instinctive,” Gunter said.

  “But still, frighten them into listening? They aren't fractious children, they're volunteers.”

  “Merlin, please go talk to Grigor for a bit. He can address your concerns better than I can. Then get back to me about my request.”

  “Alright Gunter, I'll do that. I can't say I like the idea of scaring the volunteers though.”

  “Please, just go talk to him. He's in the pub next to the restaurant we went to before. We'll need to get a start on establishing our authority with the recruits soon if we're to get them all back to the base.”

  Merlin headed for the pub. He was intercepted by Gwyddon before he got there.

  “Merlin, I'm glad I ran into you. I wanted to apologize for Brenda. She's been very abrupt with you and y
our wife.”

  “Why is it your place to apologize for her?” Merlin asked.

  “She and I are a couple. We've never married, we both date from before that custom took hold here. I believe she's decided to be upset that we never did. I'm not long for this world, only a decade or two left, while she has a century or more easily. So I don't want to go and do it now just to leave her a widow.”

  “You should ask her if that's what she wants. What do you think she'd prefer? Not what you think would be best for her, but what do you think she would prefer?”

  “I would like to do that but a mere ten or twenty years before she's widowed?”

  “As opposed to having zero years of marriage? As she said earlier today, she's a woman. Perhaps you should ask Nimue? She might have better insight into Brenda's situation. Personally, I think it would be foolish not to ask her if it's something you want. The worse she can do is say no, right?”

  “You don't know the worse Brenda can do but... Where is Nimue? I'll discuss it with her.”

  “She's back at the boardinghouse. Have you seen Grigor?”

  Gwyddon gave a nod of his head towards the pub.

  “He's inside, swilling down alcohol. He acts just like he did a decade ago when he still had the body of a thirty year old. I keep telling him to take it easy and he keeps ignoring me. His age finally caught up to his body, but it's not caught up to his mind yet.”

  “Each person deals with aging in their own fashion. Perhaps his is denial?”

  Gwyddon shook his head.

  “No, he acknowledges it and says he has no desire to take a pristine body to his grave. He'll destroy it first to make sure he gets as much use out of it as he can.”

  “Thank you Gwyddon. As I said, Nimue is back at the boardinghouse and I'm sure she'd be willing to talk to you.”

  Merlin entered the pub. The light was dim so he waited for his eyes to adjust. While he did, he heard Grigor's cackling laugh ring out.

  “Young lady, be careful. This old dog still has all his teeth and remembers how to bite.”

  When Merlin's eyes adjusted, he looked out into the room and saw Grigor hoisting a pint. The old wizard was surrounded by ten or more of the recruits. Grigor's eyes spotted Merlin and he lowered his drink.

  “Now as I was saying. The way to survive in combat is to follow the commands of your officer, assuming you've got a good one. You can start practicing that tomorrow when it's time for you to get on the train. Your officers are Merlin and Nimue, yes that Merlin and Nimue, so you know you've got good ones.”

  “Nimue? Didn't she betray Merlin?” one of the recruits asked.

  “Don't believe the stories you heard about her. Nimue got a bum rap. The stories had it all wrong. Merlin's disappearance was his own fault and only partially associated with her.”

  Grigor looked up at Merlin and gave him a wink and a grin.

  “Just listen to them. Don't get all stuck on yourselves like we Welsh normally do. I've been in combat, and listening to the officers? That might get you killed, but not listening certainly will. I know you'll all have to learn it yourselves the hard way, but now you've been warned.”

  Grumbles greeted this statement but Grigor pointed towards Merlin and continued speaking.

  “And now, I've got to speak with Merlin himself, so if you'll all excuse me. Excepting you young lady, if you really want to see if this old dog still has some bite in him, you'll wait for me while I speak with Merlin.”

  Grigor didn't even wait to hear her response, he stood and walked over to Merlin.

  “Let me guess, you disagreed with Gunter's plans?”

  “Yes. He recommended I come speak to you,” Merlin said.

  “Have you ever tried to herd cats Merlin?”

  Merlin shook his head, confused.

  “Can you envision it?”

  “Not really. They wouldn't take well to herding.”

  “Exactly, now multiply that times the intelligence, or lack thereof, of a group of people. There you have the difficulty with it. Plus, these are wizards, not regular people. Welsh wizards on top of that. My first recommendation was to knock them all out and wake them up at the other end. Gunter didn't like that though.”

  “Aren't you being a bit harsh?”

  Grigor thought for a moment.

  “Merlin, do you remember what the first few decades of your adult life were like?”

  “Honestly, not so much. It was a very long time ago.”

  “Perhaps I can remind you. Your body looks younger than it should and that detracts from the respect you think you deserve. Your hormones continue to rage like a teenager's until you reach sixty or seventy years old. Unless you're in a community that knows wizards, you need to keep moving every few years and can't set down roots. It's a recipe for trouble.”

  “I can remember some of that. I had my own troubles at the time that distracted me from those, or perhaps that made them worse,” Merlin said.

  “Now add in a war on top of that. Most of the wizards whose apparent age was in the conscription range signed up already. These are others that appear too young but aren't, or females that look outside the normal conscription range. Plus older wizards, ones that look older than fifty. Many of them have experience from the Great War. Those last will be a help to you. I recommend you put them in charge of the others and then let them do what they need to.”

  “I don't even know them and I'm supposed to give them responsibility?”

  “Co-operate with Gunter and let him do what he needs to. He and I discussed it. I may not be your elder, but I've more experience with modern war. He'll keep an eye on those he appoints. Chain of command and all that. Your recruits will need to get used to it.”

  “Well, I suppose we can try it.”

  Merlin felt as though he'd been run over by a truck. Grigor wasn't the type to pad things when he said them. Even so, Merlin felt as though he'd been called a fool for not letting Gunter, his capable NCO, take over the things he was experienced in.

  As Merlin tried to digest everything Grigor had thrown at him, The old wizard turned and beckoned to the female recruit he was speaking to when Merlin entered. She looked in her mid-thirties, which meant she was probably over a hundred. She got up and followed Grigor out the front door. The look on her face made Merlin wonder if Grigor, with his aging body, would make it to morning alive.

  * * *

  “Why did you do that to me Merlin?” Nimue asked.

  “What?”

  “Why did you send Gwyddon to talk to me about her.”

  “Who, Brenda?”

  “Yes, she's been terrible to us the entire time we've been here.”

  Comprehension began to dawn for Merlin.

  “Did you talk with him?”

  “No, I pleaded off,” Nimue said.

  “She's been so terrible to us because we're married. They aren't and she wants them to be.”

  It was Nimue's turn to be confused.

  “What?”

  “Gwyddon fears marrying her and then leaving her a widow. As he put it, in only a decade or two.”

  Nimue sounded subdued.

  “Oh.”

  “I asked him to talk to you so you could help him figure out what Brenda wants. I make no claim to knowledge I don't have and the female mind is mostly a mystery to me still.”

  “I should have known there was more to it when he said you recommended that he talk to me. If you'll excuse me, I have some apologies to make and a discussion to hold,” Nimue said.

  She hurried out the door.

  I didn't realize she was so touchy about Brenda. Perhaps I should be paying more attention to my wife and less to other things during our honeymoon, Merlin thought. She's busy now though, so I'll take care of a few more things.

  Merlin went to Gunter's room and knocked. It took several minutes for Gunter to answer but when he did Merlin told him that they would follow Gunter's plan.

  “Good,” Gunter said, “you'll just need to do some
thing to demonstrate your power when they're assembled tomorrow morning.”

  “Like what?”

  “I still don't know what you can do Merlin. I'm sure you'll figure something out. Now I need to sleep because I doubt I'll get much on the way back if I'm shepherding the recruits.”

  Merlin left and returned to his own room.

  Something to demonstrate my power? I'll come up with something I suppose, I just don't know what, he thought.

  Merlin's musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. When he answered, Brenda was standing there.

  “You asked for some scrap iron? I've got a small chunk here,” she said.

  She handed him a fist sized chunk of rusty iron.

  {Anguis? Are you hungry? Can you eat metals that are scrap or rusty?}

  Anguis' answer was to slither from around Merlin's neck and change to his dragon form. Sitting on the floor at Merlin's feet, he swallowed the chunk of iron whole, rust and all.

  “I guess with rust is just fine,” Merlin said.

  Brenda watched wide-eyed as the lump moved its way down Anguis' neck.

  “Any chance of getting some more before we leave?” Merlin asked.

  Brenda nodded.

  “I'll see if I can have some more by morning.”

  She turned and left, closing the door behind her.

  “Anguis, shall we try some other form for you? You're getting rather large for my neck.”

  The small dragon tried several forms. He made a good belt, but Merlin knew he'd have to disturb the dragon any time he wanted to undress. Finally memories of life before his long sleep provided a possible answer.

  “Anguis, do you remember knights in armor?” Merlin asked.

  “Yess.” The dragon spoke the answer with a hiss of a sibilant at the end.

  “That piece of armor they wore over their shoulders, I think they call it a bishop's mantle now. Could you form yourself into one of those, with a hole large enough to slip over my head if necessary?”

  The dragon swarmed up Merlin's body before his outline shimmered and waved. In a few seconds Merlin was wearing a solid Bishop's mantle with a dragon's head protruding from the front. Merlin moved a bit and found that Anguis flexed to move with him.

  “That will work nicely, what do you think?” Merlin asked.