Some instinct drew the boy to the entrance to the Great Stones. None of this was right the boy thought to himself, why was he here and where was ‘here’? The moon lit the countryside as far as the boy could see but none of it was familiar to him but then he had no memory of any countryside for there was nothing in his memory and it was as if his mind had been wiped clean.
All the boy knew was three things
“My name is Galahad.”
“Find Merlin.”
“Tell him I, Myrrdin Emrys have sent you.”
And that was where everything and anything finished. With a sigh Galahad loosened his sword in its scabbard and walked out of the Circle of the Great Stones of Avalon.
CHAPTER THREE
AVALON
MANTA GORE
It was, Merlin had decided long ago, quite simply the best place in the whole of Avalon, if not in the whole of the world. True the Circle of the Great Stones came pretty close but that was because there was magic and deep enchantment there. Even so there were also the bad memories of his confrontation with the Minotaur when his friend and ally, the one-time mercenary Archer, had died lying back against one of the Great Stones. Manta Gore was different, its magic was in the beauty of the place and the peacefulness of its overhanging willow trees and gently chattering river. There was no Enchantment here, either of the Old Magic or the Dark Magic, for flowing water will allow no magic in its rush.
You could keep the posing and posturing of Camelot’s Court where so many strived to be noticed or to make themselves look important, Merlin thought. For him his happiness lay in being as much like an ordinary eleven year old boy as the son of the Greatest of the Elder gods could ever be. For Merlin was the son of Mithras Invictus, Mithras the Unconquered, Mithras the Bull Slayer and the greatest of the Elder gods that the Roman legions had carried with them as they had conquered all of the known world.
The legions had left Britannia some hundred years earlier. Their conquests were failing and now Rome itself was under attack by the barbarian hordes that, one day, would ground that city state beneath their heels. Rome’s time as the greatest power on Earth was fast coming to an end and it would never rise to its former glory again.
With the retreat and failing of Rome so was coming the end of the old gods or, as they were named the Elder gods, of the legions. Many of these gods had already faded away and some, like Mithras Invictus, had or were fast losing interest in a world that did not worship or even believe in their existence anymore. The legions had brought their unconquered god, Mithras Invictus, with them to the Land of Mists when they had invaded Britannia. The Elder god had loved the wild country that was Avalon and he had fallen in love with a Celtic princess there. Her name was Princess Ailidh and she was the daughter of King Math ap Gwynned and it was from her that Merlin had been born. Merlin had inherited his deep love for the rolling plains and towering mountains of Avalon from his earth mother, the princess of Gwynned.
Mithras Invictus had given his protection to Avalon and to his son. This was held by a ring of the Bull Slayer’s altars that surrounded the boundaries of Avalon and would allow no passage to the Lords of the Dark. When King Uther Pendragon had come to power after the death of his brother, King Ambrosius, he had discouraged the worship of Mithras Invictus and allowed the protective ring of altars to fall into disrepair with the result that Camelot and Avalon’s defence was now rapidly fading away.
None of this was troubling Merlin, or the Raven Boy, as the ravens called him. For the present he was just an eleven year old boy splashing about in the ever changing waters of Manta Gore. Alongside the boy enchanter were his friends, Kraak and Grim. Kraak was the King of the Raven Kind and was a raven that was as big and as strong as a very large eagle. Kraak could speak the Speech of Men having been granted the gift of speech by Mithras Invictus.
Merlin’s other friend could not have been more different from the King of the Raven Kind for he was a ghoul and a particularly smelly one at that. The ghoul’s name was Grim and he was uncertain as to just how long he had been dead but Merlin said that it smelt like a couple of hundred years at the very least. Even so Grim had been loyal to the Raven Boy. That was as loyal as a ghoul could be for Grim had been at the Great Stones of Avalon when Merlin had confronted the Minotaur, a creature that was half bull and half man that had been raised by the Dark Lord by the use of his Black Arts from the very Depths of Hell. Grim had not joined the fight which was probably just as well for he would have been more of a hindrance to Merlin than a help. Even so the ghoul had not fled, as Merlin had expected that he would. Grim had also stood vigil for a whole night with Merlin, Kraak and Stormrider, the golden stallion who was the King of the Unicorns, as Archer’s funeral pyre had sent the dead mercenary to join his ancestors in the House of the Dead.
“The Raven Kind have flown far and wide,” Kraak told the boy enchanter, “They have seen nothing of the Dark Lord.”
The Raven Kind were Merlin’s ‘eyes and ears’ throughout Camelot and Avalon and sometimes even beyond.
Merlin turned to look at Grim, the ghoul was stood high up on the river bank of Manta Gore. Ghouls and water did not mix very well.
“Have the ghouls heard anything, Grim?” the boy asked.
The ghoul shook his head vigorously. It always looked to Merlin as if Grim’s head would fall off when the ghoul did this but somehow it seemed to always manage to remain on his shoulders.
“We have seen and heard nothing,” the ghoul replied, “Mighty Lord is gone, perhaps for ever.”
“Then Archer’s death was not in vain,” the King of the Raven Kind said what they were all thinking.
Merlin nodded his agreement, it would be nice to think that the Dark Lord had left Avalon for good but the boy did not think that this was likely to be the case.
“Let’s hope so, Kraak, but it’s not in the Dark Lord’s nature to admit defeat,” Merlin said.
“The Dark Lord’s Army of the Dead cannot enter Avalon while you live, Raven Boy,” Kraak reminded him and it was true. The Army of the Dead could not swarm out from the Gates of the Underworld while the Old Magic remained in Avalon and Merlin, together with his great father, greatest of the Elder gods, was of the Old Magic.
“Raven Boy must not die,” if Grim’s face could have gone any paler it would have done so but it was already a deathly white, “Grim would be sad,” the ghoul finished.
Merlin gave the ghoul one of his rare smiles, “Then I’ll have to try to stay alive for you, Grim,” the boy told him.
“It is not good to speak of such things,” Kraak told them while looking around. The raven felt that even to speak of death was to attract bad luck.
“Don’t worry, Kraak,” Merlin told his raven friend, “I take a lot of killing.”
“Raven Boy cut off the Minotaur’s head,” the ghoul said almost relishing the memory of the moment when Merlin had used Mithras Invictus’ own Killing Sword to behead the Minotaur. “Grim was there, Grim saw,” the ghoul continued.
“While hiding behind one of the Great Stones,” Kraak drily retorted.
The ghoul’s face dropped and he started to shake at the reality of what had happened and when Grim shook his bones made an awful lot of noise.
“Grim was scared,” the ghoul admitted, “Minotaur was so big, so cruel,” he finished rather lamely.
“It’s alright, Grim,” Merlin reassured his friend, “You were very brave – for you.”
“See,” the ghoul turned triumphantly to the King of the Raven Kind, “Grim was brave.”
“”Brave for you,” Kraak retorted but…”
Suddenly Merlin cut across the raven’s speech.
“Ssssh.”
“What is it, Raven Boy?” Kraak asked.
“”We’re being watched,” Merlin told him quietly before turning to face the opposite river bank. “Show yourself,” Merlin’s voice whipped across the water with an authority that could not be ignored.
A boy stepped out from behind
the trunk of one of the willows that bent gracefully down over the water. He was possibly a year older than Merlin but was as fair haired as the boy enchanter was dark. A solid looking sword was hanging from the boy’s belt and something about the way that the boy moved made it look as if he could use it if he ever had to.
Merlin had taken all this in at his first glance but there was something strange about the boy that Merlin didn’t like. Even in the few steps that he had taken as he stepped out from behind the tree the boy had moved like an athlete but there was a vacant look in the boy’s face as if he was sleep-walking – or under deep enchantment Merlin thought to himself.
For a moment the boy enchanter just looked at the newcomer seeking with all his intuition to know whether there was any threat here. To Merlin’s amazement he hit a blank wall, he could not tell whether the boy was a danger to him or not. Merlin knew that the Dark Lord could take away a person’s Free Will by enchantment for he had done it with Draago the dragon before Merlin had freed his now friend from it. But then he had been able to feel the Dark Magic that swirled around the dragon, here he could sense absolutely nothing and he didn’t like it, in fact he didn’t like it at all.
“Who are you?” Once again Merlin’s voice echoed across the water.
For a moment the boy hesitated as if reaching into his mind for the answer, “Galahad,” he said as if testing the sound, “I’m Galahad,” he repeated as if coming to a quick conclusion that this was indeed his name.
For a moment Merlin continued to stare at the fair haired boy. For all his power of the Old Magic the boy enchanter still could not sense whether the newcomer was a threat.
“Why are you spying on me?”
The newcomer continued to look puzzled as if he didn’t know the answer to the question himself.
“I’m not spying,” the boy replied and this time his voice was stronger as if he was coming out of a dream – or a nightmare. “I’m looking for someone and I thought it might be you.”
“Well it isn’t,” Merlin told him with a sharp finality to his words.
“Who are you?” The boy whose name was Galahad asked.
“They call me the Raven Boy,” Merlin told him, he didn’t trust the boy with his true name.
“Then it’s definitely not you that I was told to find,” Galahad’s voice was becoming stronger and more assured now. The boy had an air of authority about him that matched the sword he carried and the quick athleticism of his movements.
“Who were you told to find?” Merlin asked.
“His name is Merlin,” Galahad replied, “That’s all I know.”
That certainly wasn’t the reply that the boy enchanter had been expecting and it put him even more on this guard. It was not beyond the realms of possibility that the Dark Lord could have enchanted this boy and sent him to kill Merlin. It was unlikely but quite possible the boy enchanter thought.
“Who was it that told you to seek out this Merlin?” Merlin asked guardedly.
“His name was Myrrdin Emrys,” Galahad replied, “He told me that Merlin would help me and that I should tell him my name and that Myrrdin Emrys had sent me to him.”
Grim also did not trust the fair haired boy, “I think this Galahad comes from the Dark Lord,” he whispered to the boy enchanter while moving sideways to make sure that both Kraak and Merlin were between him and the newcomer.
Merlin was inclined to agree with the smelly ghoul, “Where do you come from?” He asked the boy.
A look of puzzlement crossed Galahad’s face as if he was searching for something that could not be found.
“I don’t know,” he said passing a hand across his forehead, “I know only that my name is Galahad, that I must find Merlin and that I must tell him that Myrrdin Emrys sent me.”
This didn’t ring at all true with Merlin, “You must know where you come from,” he told the boy.
That bemused look crossed Galahad’s face once more, “I don’t,” he said, “Last night I woke up in a Stone Circle. It was cold and these clothes were there and this sword,” the boy gestured at the clothes that he was wearing and lifted the sword in its scabbard, “There was a Sword stuck in a Stone,” he continued, “I tried to pull it out but I couldn’t move it.”
“You wouldn’t,” Merlin told Galahad bluntly, “It is held there by a great enchantment, the enchantment of the Elder gods.”
Galahad continued to look blankly at Merlin, it was as if he had never heard of the Elder gods.”
“I do not trust you, Galahad,” the King of the Raven Kind told the boy, “I do not trust you at all.”
For a moment Galahad looked as if somebody had just punched him hard in the face.
“The raven can speak,” he said in a half whisper.
Kraak bowed his head, “The Greatest of the Elder gods, Mithras Invictus, granted me and the Raven Kind speech with the humans,” he informed the boy.
“Kraak is the King of the Raven Kind,” Merlin added, “And he is also a mighty warrior. You would do well to remember that.”
Galahad bowed graciously to the huge raven, “My apologies, sire, I did not realise who you were.”
“Still I do not trust you,” Kraak told the boy grimly.
Galahad looked plaintively around, “Why am I here?” He asked.
“You really don’t know?” It seemed impossible to Merlin that the boy did not know more than he was letting on. Once again the boy enchanter tried to use his magic to learn more of Galahad but he was met, as before, by an impenetrable barrier.
“The only memories that I have are what I have just told you,” Galahad persisted.
Merlin still could not believe this. The fair haired boy looked and moved like a warrior and a warrior who had learnt his good manners at court but Merlin knew that was impossible. Although he very rarely went to King Uther Pendragon’s Court at Camelot Merlin knew that Galapas would have mentioned a boy of Merlin’s own age to him and especially one who looked as if he could be pretty useful with a sword.
“You know nothing of your mother, your father or where you live?” The young enchanter persevered, “You have no memories of them?”
Once again Galahad shook his head, “I have no memories at all,” he repeated, “Only that my name is Galahad, that I must seek out Merlin and that I should tell him that Myrrdin Emrys sent me.”
Merlin wanted to believe the boy but Camelot had already seen too much death at the hands of the Dark Lord and his Dark Magic to allow him to trust what he could not understand.
“Where will you sleep tonight?” He asked the boy.
Galahad obviously hadn’t given that a thought, “I don’t know. Is there a cave or something near here? I must find Merlin,” he finished with a fierceness that Merlin had not seen from him before.
“Kraak,” he told the raven, “Fly to Galapas and inform him of everything that Galahad has said to us and tell him that the ‘Raven Boy’ is bringing Galahad to him. It’s a message from the Raven Boy, you do understand?”
“Kraak will tell Galapas exactly what the Raven Boy has said,” the raven stressed the words ‘exactly’ and ‘Raven Boy’ to let Merlin know that he had got the message.
Merlin watched Kraak fly off with powerful beats from his wings and then turned back to the ghoul.
“Grim, find out what the ghouls know of Galahad,” he said, “And what they saw at the Great Stones last night.” Grim nodded and half ran half flapped off in that peculiar gait of his.
“There was no one at the Circle of Stones,” Galahad told the boy enchanter, “Only me.”
“The ghouls would have been there or at least close by,” Merlin explained, “They keep watch over the Sword. You wouldn’t see them unless they wanted you to.
“That man you have sent with your message,” Galahad said, “He looks very ill. Is it fair to ask him to go all the way to the Circle of Stones?”
“Oh Grim’s not ill,” Merlin told the boy breezily, “He’s dead, he has been for at least a couple of hund
red years, that’s why he smells so awful. Actually he’s in pretty good condition – for a ghoul that is.”
This all seemed a bit too much for the boy to take in. Merlin watched him closely but the boy warrior continued to still look completely lost. As well he might, Merlin thought, when confronted with a talking raven and a two hundred year old ghoul.
“Raven Boy, who is this Galapas?” Galahad asked.
“Galapas is the High Mage of Camelot and he will give you food and shelter,” the young enchanter warily told the boy.
“That would be very kind of him,” Galahad said, “But it will be only for tonight. Tomorrow I must find this man called Merlin. He seems to be the only one who can tell me what I am doing here.”
Merlin had watched carefully but the boy had not reacted to the name of Camelot at all. He was either the world’s best actor or really had lost his memory. The trouble was that Merlin did not know which of these two options was the truth and, until he was absolutely certain that the fair haired young warrior did not come from the Dark Lord, he was most certainly not going to trust him.
CHAPTER FOUR
AVALON
MO DHACHAIDH
Kraak had done exactly as Merlin had asked him to do which was to fly fast and straight to Mo Dhachaidh. Mo Dhachaidh was the home of Galapas the High Mage of Camelot. It was as you would expect, for the High Mage, a large and impressive house. Celtic runes ran along the wall of Mo Dhachaidh and these were as a protection for all who stepped over the threshold. King Uther Pendragon had requested, on a number of occasions, that Galapas should live at Camelot Castle but in this the High Mage had refused his king. Galapas had been the High Mage of Camelot since the time of Uther Pendragon’s older brother, King Ambrosius, and he knew better than anyone not to become involved in the petty politics that were prevalent at King Uther Pendragon’s court. Besides Galapas, like Merlin, loved the wide open spaces of Avalon. King Uther Pendragon hadn’t liked Galapas’ refusal but he had been wise enough not to press his High Mage, knowing that sometimes Galapas could be as stubborn as Merlin when and if he was pushed to it.
Merlin and the Land of Mists Book Three: Galahad Page 2
