The Iron Chalice

by J. M. Briggs

  “Merlin.” Morgana reached out and grabbed his arm, shaking him from his thoughts. “I think we are being watched,” she told him a low voice.

  Her green eyes were sharp even as she tried to appear unconcerned, and Merlin was able to instantly banish the thought that Morgana might still be upset. Glancing around carefully Merlin tried to appear calm and unconcerned. They passed under a budding tree and Merlin spotted a gray and black bird. Looking up at it, Merlin almost smiled at the sight of the small crow with its black head and wings and silvery body. Yet, there was a sense that something was wrong as he examined it. It seemed to be watching them. From his position, it looked like an ordinary hooded crow except that there was a slight red tint to its black feathers that he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before.

  “Morgana,” Merlin said in a deliberate voice. “I think we’ve lingered here long enough. We should seek shelter for the night in the next village.”

  She nodded in agreement and they sped up their pace. As they passed the tree the crow cawed and ruffled its feathers. Merlin felt a sharp desire to swing his staff at it, but the crow swooped out of the tree with a loud caw and Merlin shivered at a sudden chill working its way up his spine. With a smooth turn in the air the crow flew down in front of them and flapped its wings to stay suspended in the air directly ahead. Red sparks danced over the bird’s feathers, creating a dark-red glow around the creature that last only a moment before the shape of the crow began to grow larger and shift in midair.

  Feathers shimmered and rippled in the wind as they shrank into the growing form. It took only a moment, but Merlin felt his stomach turning at the small cracking sounds that reached his ears. In a swirl of a gray cloak, a figure emerged from the rush of magic. The figure adjusted their long gray cloak, exposing one bare shoulder and a hand with long, talon-like fingernails.

  She appeared female, but Merlin was not going to take anything about this creature at face value. Towering over both Morgana and himself by more than a foot, she had wild-looking dark eyes that glinted in the light of the sun and were lined with blood red. Her skin was grayer than that of a human, and long black lines were painted across her face. Black hair hung around it, making it appear shadowed and gaunt even in the daylight. A mantle made of long black feathers surrounded her neck, and while he had never met this being before Merlin was very confident in its identity.

  “Good day,” Merlin greeted. “One who takes the form of a crow? You are Badb I believe? Worshiped by some humans as a goddess and an exile of the realm of Avalye.”

  “I am,” the woman replied. Her cold voice seemed to echo in the still air around them. There was a hint of irritation at his introduction in her tone. “Give me the Iron Sword.”

  “That is not possible,” Merlin replied with a kindly smile. He gestured for Morgana to stay behind him. A moment later he felt her smaller hands pull the bag that concealed Cathanáil off his back. “The sword is an artifact of the Iron Soul that we are charged with protecting.”

  “You will give me the sword mages, or I will destroy you and take it by force,” Badb informed him imperiously with a dangerous flash in her eyes.

  “What is your interest in the sword?” Morgana demanded. “Its power is limited when not in the hand of the Iron Soul, and he is long gone.”

  “That sword touches other worlds,” Badb said in a greedy voice as she took a step towards them. “It has potential in the right hands.”

  “Those hands are not yours!” Morgana drew back with the bag in her hands and fire in her eyes.

  Badb’s dark eyes narrowed on the bag and a slow smile spread over her face. Merlin placed his staff in front of his body and studied the Old One for a moment as she tore her gaze from Morgana and returned it to him. None of them moved for a time until a gust of wind howled along the nearby cliffs and tore through the trees. Badb raised a hand and before either of them had a chance to react sent a swirling mass of dark-red magic at them.

  Air was pulled from his lungs roughly as the sparks of magic wafted around him. Merlin raised his eyes to glare at Badb. She was watching them calmly, her head tilted slightly as she waited for his reaction. Merlin felt something familiar and yet almost forgotten thrumming in his chest. Without thinking about it Merlin pulled sharply on the sensation and felt a rush of magic up his throat and down his arms. Green magic flashed at his right palm and pushed Badb’s magic away from them.

  “It would seem that I have not been as diligent as I had thought,” Merlin groaned. “There is more magic in the world than I realized.”

  “Give me the sword old abomination,” Badb ordered.

  “Abomination.” Morgana laughed behind him. “It’s been a long time since anyone called us that.” There was a giddy note to her tone, and Merlin was almost afraid to look at her, but he did. Morgana’s green eyes were blazing and she had raised her right hand, Cathanáil’s bag slung over her own shoulder now, and her own silver magic was beginning to coil around her palm. “A long time indeed, but I think I remember how to be that woman.”

  Merlin summoned his magic and smiled despite the danger at the warmth that spread through his entire body. It was suddenly easier to breathe than it had been for longer than he cared to remember. His magic surged into his fingers and the world looked a little sharper and clearer. Green sparks of magic blended with the brilliant silver magic of Morgana as she released a charged wave of power. The swirl of magic spun through the air and struck Badb in the chest. A strange cry, half-scream half-caw, tore from her throat only to turn into a vicious snarl. Her dark eyes flashed red as she regained her balance and raised one hand towards them. More dark-red magic sparked over her palm and around the vicious looking nails. Morgana did not give her a chance to attack again as a whip of shimmering silver slashed through the air and struck Badb’s hand. A cry of raw rage sang across the hills, and dark-red magic flared around the Old One.

  Morgana pulled him sharply to the right just in time to avoid a blazing ball of fire. The rush of heat at his side spurred Merlin into action, bringing years of combat experience flaring back to life. Quickly he shifted away from Morgana to create two targets and two points of attack against Badb as blood began to pound in his ears. Adjusting his staff, Merlin pushed his magic into the old wood. It pulsed in his hand and he flexed his fingers against the wood experimentally. It would do.

  As his magic flowed into his hands Merlin gently pushed it into the staff. There was resistance only for a moment before the wood and his magic remembered the long ago connection. He moved once more to avoid another blast from Badb. He almost smiled as the magic began building up in the wood and the Old One snarled with anger. Gritting his teeth, Merlin raised his staff into the air and sent one last jolt of magic into it. In his hands, the wood shivered and glowed with a soft green light just before he brought it down sharply against the ground.

  The old wooden staff creaked and shuddered as his magic surged through it and into the ground. Flashes of green light illuminated Merlin’s hands and face as the ground shimmered around his feet. Around Badb the earth trembled. Chunks of rock and turf violently shot up around her in flashes of green light. Badb merely chuckled and blasted a stream of dark-red sparks at a slab of rock sliding up next to her, causing it to explode in a shower of rock and dust.

  Merlin was beginning to feel faint as the constant pull of magic through his body sucked all the air from his lungs. In the corner of his eye, he could see Morgana still attacking Badb with quick, low-powered attacks to keep the Old One distracted. His chest burned and the staff was glowing the same spring leaf green as his magic now. The staff began to crack beneath his hands with a large fragment pushing painfully into his palm, but Merlin poured more magic into the stressed wood. His connection to the Iron Realm was thrumming painfully even as he demanded more and more magic. Earth was pulled up by flashes of green faster than Badb could destroy. Around her feet, the ground was beginning to cake over her legs and threaten to trap her. A whip of silver magic flashed t
hrough the air striking Badb’s arm. She shrieked again and her eyes flashed a bloody red as she turned her full attention to Morgana.

  Her true distraction gave Merlin the moment he needed, and with a final shove of magic, the ground around Badb’s feet swelled up violently around her. Earth molded around her feet locking her in place. That strange scream and caw sound escaped her and her arms flailed wildly as Badb sought to balance herself. All around her legs the earth crept up like a living creature seeking to swallow her whole. A triumphant laugh from Morgana was followed by a slash of silvery magic striking Badb in the chest.

  Badb screamed in rage, a mixture of a yell and a caw, as a cloud of dark-red magic loomed and swirled above her. With one last murderous look at them both, she brought her hands down and sent her magic crashing into the earthen trap holding her. The rocks cracked and the turf was thrown all around her, releasing her feet. Morgana sent two more silvery orbs crashing into Badb, causing the Old One to flinch and scream. Golden blood shown brilliantly against her gray skin as Badb’s magic swirled up around her. The shape of her body changed rapidly and as Merlin took a step forward a hooded crow appeared in her place. It opened its wings and took to the sky, dodging another wave of crumbling rocks.

  Morgana wasn’t done and the crow barely avoided the final swirl of silver magic. Merlin turned to Morgana and almost chuckled as she angrily stamped her foot. There was a look of rage, but also a glimmer of excitement on her features. He shifted and felt the staff finish crumbling in his hand, leaving scattered chips of wood in front of him and a layer of dust on his palm. Turning his eyes away from it, Merlin watched the bird fly far off into the horizon and sighed loudly. The warmth of his magic was quickly being overtaken by a sense of loss and sorrow that he could not deny; even as he felt foolish for it. As the last glimmer of black wings vanished, Merlin turned his attention to his shattered staff.

  “Merlin,” Morgana called hesitantly. He examined the fractured pieces of wood. “Are- are you alright?”

  Merlin smiled sadly as he turned to look at her. Morgana was clutching the bag with Cathanáil tightly in her hands and watching him with a pitying and worried expression. Shaking his head, Merlin selected one of the smaller pieces with an intact symbol carved on it and slipped it into the small pouch on his side. The rest of the shattered pieces of wood he let fall to the ground.

  “My mother made me that staff,” he said softly to answer Morgana’s question. “Carved with symbols of protection, and covered with a bit of her own blood. She always wanted me safe, despite what I was.” Shaking his head, he stepped back from the fragments. “I suppose I should be grateful that it lasted as long as it did.” He gestured towards the hills. “We should resume our journey.”

  “Badb will be back,” Morgana reminded him. She stepped up next to him and they began to walk. “I doubt that an Old One with plans for the sword will give up easily.”

  “I agree, and I called on far more magic than I thought still existed in the world.”

  “That might be a bad sign.” Morgana glanced around at the trees with clear tension in her shoulders. “Something is happening.”

  “Well then, I suppose we have a new mission,” Merlin replied with a falsely cheerful smile. “A new purpose.”

  Morgana smacked him on the arm and sighed, but in the corner of his eye, Merlin saw a very small, pleased smile appear on her face. Inwardly he sighed in relief and sent a wish to the ancestors that they could meet this new challenge without the Iron Soul.

  4

  Choosing a Direction

  Nicki wasn’t sure what she had been expecting when they’d gotten off the plane in Wales. Despite the nap she’d managed to take during the longest leg of their journey, she still felt exhausted, and the sense of confusion she was suffering didn’t help matters. Cardiff was a strange thing to her. In her youth, she’d traveled across the country with her parents, never staying long anywhere and spending more than one night in the backseat. Over the years the memories of elegant brick buildings, dingy side streets and tall skyscrapers had faded into a dull blur. Yet this city was something quite different, she realized as she watched it sweep past through the train window.

  The buildings were small and compact with older and classic looking buildings pressed up against modern structures of glass and metal. For a moment the realization of just how old the city was hit her, and Nicki grinned as she eagerly looked around. But she turned on instinct to say something to Aiden and froze as everything rushed back to her. Swallowing Nicki did her best to stay calm and looked across the aisle to where Alex and Bran were leaning over a small pamphlet they’d gotten at the airport. She couldn’t hear what they were saying and glanced towards Jenny and Lance, who were sitting very calmly across from her and clearly trying not to notice that they were right next to each other.

  “Are you sure we should head to Glastonbury?” Bran asked. “I mean, it is associated with the King Arthur myth, but it’s in Devon, not Wales.”

  “I know.” Nicki’s stomach threatened to turn at her own uncertainty. “But the Glastonbury Tor is one of the possible places where Arthur is buried, and a lot of grail stories link to Glastonbury. I know Morgana suggested Wales, but maybe the person took the chalice out of Wales. Unless your visions can give us more then we’re a bit stuck.”

  “She has a point,” Jenny said carefully, giving her a look like she expected to be bitten or something. “We don’t have much to go on, and if nothing else going to Glastonbury will give us some time to research and try to find other possibilities.”

  Bran shook his head and glanced towards Lance and Jenny. “But wasn’t it catholic monks who encouraged the connection to the King Arthur myth?”

  “Sure, but they probably built on local legends,” Nicki agreed. “The area has been connected with Avalon for a long time, so maybe there is something there.”

  “I think that Morgana and Merlin have mentioned it before,” Bran said. “But they don’t tell us much. I hate the idea that we spend time searching in an area that is just a medieval tourist trap.”

  “There are a ton of Arthurian myths,” Alex protested. She looked a bit ill as she said the words. “Hell, we even took a whole semester class about them, but most of the stories are combinations of different myths from all across the British Isles and even other parts of Europe. Then they were rewritten and romanticized by the French. I don’t think we’ll find much guidance there.”

  “All the more reason to start with something obvious,” Lance said. He reached over to touch Alex’s shoulder. “Maybe we need to take a step back and start where anyone else would start. Stop thinking about all the different myths and what Merlin and Morgana have told you.”

  Nicki felt a flare of irritation, but Bran was regarding Lance with a small and thoughtful smile. “You think what we know is distracting us.”

  “Sort of, yeah, sure Merlin and Morgana didn’t tell you about it, but there were probably other mages running around with the different Iron Souls. They didn’t hide the chalice, so they might not know all the events surrounding it. Hell, maybe some storyteller mistook one of those mages for Merlin or Morgana at some point in time.”

  “By that logic then Glastonbury is as good a place to start as any,” Alex agreed. Nicki caught Alex glancing her way. “But according to the information, we got getting there isn’t as easy as we hoped.”

  “I thought in England you could get anywhere by train?” Jenny questioned with a curious frown and a tilt of her head.

  “Not to Glastonbury. We can get train tickets to Bristol, but we’ll have to take a bus to Glastonbury itself,” Bran informed her with an apologetic look. “It isn’t a very large town and is apparently really dependent on tourism.”

  “Okay, so here’s a plan,” Alex said. “We get tickets to Bristol as soon as we reach the central station. If there is a delay then we get some real food, and if it is soon then we just grab some snacks to go. When we get to Bristol we get to a bookstore and get so
me research material and a place to sleep for the night.”

  “You don’t want to get to Glastonbury today?” Jenny questioned with a nervous glance her way that made Nicki frown.

  “If a train doesn’t go to Glastonbury then it must be a small town,” Alex explained sounding unsure of herself but trying anyway. “We’re all exhausted and jet lagged. Let’s get some sleep while we can, and see about getting ourselves some internet access. Now that we’re over here it might be safe to try and get some more information out of Merlin and Morgana. Not to mention finding a place to stay in Glastonbury. I doubt we’re going to find the Chalice in only a day.”