Ever My Merlin

chapter 8 – LOVE ME, LOVE ME NOT

I jerked out of Vane’s memory when Matt pulled me off the ground. The mountain stopped rumbling. People on the trail seemed to be moving at a less frantic pace. Then, another crackle of thunder hurried them along. Some persisted, lingering to stare at the destruction. In place of the shrine, there was only a deep sinkhole, surrounded by haphazard blocks of crumbled concrete. Down on the second level, the poorly constructed buildings lay in shambles. Yet, despite having just lost their home, the monks continued to help the injured with stoic expressions.

“It can be rebuilt,” said Matt, correctly reading my thoughts. He grabbed my wrist and tugged. “We’ve done all we can.”

I stared at him. “You said the booby trap is for people who can’t prove they’re worthy. Does that mean you knew this might happen?”

Matt’s face blanched. “We’re disturbing secrets that have been used as protections going thousands of years back.”

I ground my teeth. “I’ll take that as an affirmative. Why didn’t you think to have some kind of plan if it did?”

“I didn’t have time to come up with a plan.”

“You mean you didn’t want to risk letting anyone else in on a plan… Say someone who could have blocked off this mountain for us.”

“No, I didn’t. I couldn’t risk it,” he said without remorse.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m realistic. We don’t have time to go through the proper channels.”

“Says you.”

“No one died, Ryan.” Unlike on your watch.

The words punched me somewhere low and deep. Blake’s face flashed between us. Tears stung my eyes, and I took a sharp breath.

Matt raked a hand through his hair. “We should go before anyone starts asking questions.”

I reined in the pain. “We wouldn’t want that.”

“This is only the beginning,” Matt said, unknowingly echoing Vane’s words.

A crack of lightning streaked above us. Rain came down with a vengeance as we began our descent off the mountain. A sign told us we were in Ratnapura, the city of gems. About a hundred feet down, the stairs became very steep and we clutched the handrails for fear of tumbling over the edge of the mountain. Sheets of rain made the passage even more treacherous. I clung to a set of large chains riveted to the rock.

Matt touched the chains. "These chains were supposedly placed here by Alexander. They could be over a thousand years old."

"So thrilled to know," I shouted back at him. Usually, I loved historical tidbits, but not right now. Not when I was depending on the very thousand-year-old chains with my life. I muttered, "As soon as we survive this mountain, remind me to beat you with that cross."

Matt sighed. “I didn’t ask you to come along.”

I slipped on wet stone. Matt caught my arm to steady me. I shrugged him off and clutched the handrails tighter. It took three hours of painstaking footholds to get down the mountain. A white dome temple, the beacon of hope, nestled in a valley of mist tucked between the mountains and curtained by crisp, green vegetation came into view. Yet, I didn’t slow down to admire the sight. With each step, my anger at Matt grew. I couldn’t believe his nerve. He would never trust anyone enough and yet, I was the only one wrong.

I dropped my sodden backpack and collapsed under a covered bit of curb. We’d finally reached the bottom of the trail and a small walkway. The path led off the steps and into a sparse huddle of stores and homes, the last stop to get souvenirs. I even saw a T-shirt declaring, “I Peaked,” which would have been funny if I wasn’t too wet to smile.

Finally, I asked, “Now what?”

“We get back on the train and find out what the cross opens.” Matt peeled off his rain poncho. Wet hair hung over his forehead and the collar of his coat. His T-shirt was soaked against his lean chest, clinging to every hard muscle.

I told myself I wasn’t impressed. “It opens something?”

Matt discreetly took out the metal artifact and traced the curves of the cross. “Looks like a key to me.”

“We’re looking for a door. Are you telling the truth this time?”

Matt scowled. “Are you going to stop using me as a substitute punching bag?”

My jaw dropped. “I am not!”

“Vane’s good at pushing every button and you’re letting him push all of yours.”

My anger deflated like a punctured balloon. I stared down at my tennis shoes. The previously white laces and rubber lining were stained an ugly brown with mud.

Matt sat down next to me. “You’re stronger than him.”

“Am I? I never thought so.”

Matt’s shoulder brushed mine. “Maybe you should start.”

I raised a brow. “Maybe you should start telling me why you’re following Alexander the Great around on this island.”

Matt grinned. “Maybe you should trust me.”

I blinked, my gaze snared by his inky, amber eyes. “You smiled.”

His expression turned self-conscious. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

“Ryan, bear with me a little while longer.”

Picking up my cold hand, he squeezed it, and in the middle of the Sri Lankan jungle, surrounded by the smells of roadside egg rolls and hot chai, the clouds shifted enough to allow one single ray of sunshine to shine down on us. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all. I didn’t squeeze his hand in return, but I didn’t attempt to pull it back either.

“Where are we off to next, oh wise Merlin?”

Matt’s expression turned sheepish. “Ella.”

***

We never returned to the hotel. Not that it mattered; everything I owned at the moment fit into the small backpack I carried up the mountain. The train from Nuwara Eliya to Ella showcased rolling hills and colorful foliage with enough wild in them to spread out across the land in interesting patterns. Within two minutes of staring at the scenic vistas, I passed out from complete exhaustion.

I woke up with my head on Matt’s chest. A bit of drool spilled from the side of my mouth, smearing his coat. I jerked up and the back of my head bumped against the metal side of the train. I winced and wiped my mouth at the same time. My seat was beside the window and Matt sat next to the aisle. I mumbled, “You could have just pushed me aside.”

“No worries.” He shut the guidebook, his constant companion, or crutch, as I was starting to think of it. “You don’t snore… that much.”

“So funny,” I said, despite the flush spreading over my face. I half-heartedly hit his shoulder. “I thought you were the nice brother.”

Matt raised a brow. “Since when?”

“W-well, in comparison—” I stuttered.

“Is that why you didn’t pick me?”

This time, my entire body flushed. “W-what?”

“Why Vane?”

“Uh—”

“You like that ‘I think I’m so hot when I’m yelling at you’ kind?”

Well, Vane was—hot, that is. And he did yell a lot.

“No need to answer.” Matt sank back into his seat. “I see the answer on your face.”

“He doesn’t lie either,” I retorted.

This time Matt flushed. “I’m trying to keep us alive.”

“Isn’t that what you always say?”

The train screeched to a stop. Someone shouted out, “Ella.”

Without a word to me, Matt got up. He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder in jerky movements and marched out of the train. I hurried after him. The Ella train station was one long Victorian-era building with a tiny platform. More red-and-yellow decorations were strung along the platform’s ceiling. Matt walked straight to a line of waiting tuk tuk drivers. We clambered into the three-wheeler.

Matt barked, “Ella Caves,” and the tuk tuk ambled off.

In a rare bit of clear weather, we passed through the center of town. The driver pointed out a big tent, packed with people. During the festival, rice and jakfruit curry were offered free to any passersby. My stomach rumbled.

"Forget it." Matt handed me a cereal bar from his bag. "Vane knows where we are now. We have to move fast."

I waved away the bar with a grimace (I hated mixed berry) as we zoomed out of the one-road mountain town. The road was fairly well paved, but a bit hair-raising. The tuk tuk flew up the steep sides of the hill country. We must have been going at least thirty to forty kilometers (that’s a brisk eighteen to twenty-four miles per hour), yet I was clutching the side of the doorless car and hanging on for dear life. My nose tickled with the scents of damp air and overgrown leafy vegetation. It perfectly suited my new occupation as intrepid explorer in search of ancient treasure, and with the “save the world” badge pinned to me I could ignore all that pesky concern over preservation of cultures and habitats that modern archeologists worried about…

The justification almost assuaged my guilty conscience.

“Why?” I turned away from the entrancing landscape to Matt. He sat stiffly against the opposite side of the tuk tuk, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible. The small interior and rickety ride made this fairly difficult.

“Why what?” he groused.

“Why do you want to save the world? You don’t even like people.” I flicked a finger at the guidebook tucked in the front pocket of his bag. “All you care about is books and such.”

“I care more about seven billion people,” he said dryly. “Are you still upset about the temple? If it makes you feel better, I can get a donation together for a restoration project. It will prop up the local economy for decades.”

“You can’t buy your way out of everything.”

“Like Vane tries?” he said.

I frowned at him. “That’s not who Vane is.”

Matt snorted. “You’re right. He doesn’t care about money. He cares about power. That’s who he is… the kind you like.”

I rolled my eyes. “Is it possible for you to find one redeeming quality in your brother?”

Matt’s lips thinned. “I’ve tried for years. Against my better judgment, I tried. I invited him into Camelot and he destroyed it.” He stared somewhere over my shoulder. “Vane was taken to train to be a warrior when I was very young. I don’t know the exact age. After he returned to Britannia with Perceval, he never answered my questions about what happened to him and I never could ease the strain between us. I always wondered if we’d been too close before he left.”

My chest squeezed for them. For the two brothers… they’d been so young and so defenseless. But something didn’t sit right. I said, “Perceval and his little sister.”

“What?”

“He returned with Perceval and his little sister from Carthage to Britain.”

Matt’s expression turned thoughtful-Merlin. “You saw her in an another memory?”

I nodded.

“Perceval never said a word about a little sister.”

“She was there,” I insisted. “If she never made it to Camelot, what happened to her?”

Matt sighed. “I don’t know.”

“She was just a little girl!”

Matt shook his head. “It happened long ago, yet it goes to show what I’ve been saying all along—Vane’s past gets more questionable with every revelation. Maybe you should think on that.”

The tuk tuk stopped before a sign with a mix of squiggly writing and English stating “Rawanaella Ancient Temple and Cave.” The sign showed a picture of steps leading up to a jungle cave straight out of Indiana Jones. A little farther up, a small square temple stood to the right of the pathway. It had a raised veranda and seemed to be about one-room deep. Matt paid the driver, but we didn’t go into the temple.

A skinny kid, about six years old, ran up to us. His face broke into a toothy smile. He said in poorly accented English, “I can help guide you up, mister. I can get you up fast.”

“No—” Matt started to say.

I elbowed him and told the kid, “We’d love some help.”

The boy beamed and ran to the steps, gesturing at us. “Here.”

“What happened to discreet?” Matt hissed in my ear.

“What happened to helping the local economy?” I snapped back.

He sighed. “With what I have left, we’ll be lucky if we can afford our next meal.”

We headed up the steep path. Stone steps were carved into the side of the mountain. The path’s rock side was overgrown with vines and various ferns. On the other side, a sharp drop-off had no railings to stop you from tumbling into an abyss of wilderness. Because of the free lunch offered in town (I figured), we were the only ones at the site. That way, if we plunged to our deaths, we’d do so without any witnesses.

Our small guide went swiftly up the steps. Matt climbed steadily behind him. I was less steady. My tennis shoes were not designed for hiking. I wondered if Indiana Jones thought about getting better shoes for the girl he dragged along with him. Then, I remembered the snake crawling through high heels in one movie, and decided all guys were pretty much the same amount of clueless. After one terrifying stumble, I chucked my pride and grabbed Matt’s bag for some support. “I’m not taking another step until you tell me why we’re following Alexander the Great around this island.”

Matt glanced at our guide. The boy outdistanced us by several steps. He took a slow step forward. “Al-sikandar. Sikander. Iskander is how he was known here. He conquered every piece of land from Macedonia down to the Gaza strip. In Egypt, he found the sanctuary of the oracle of Ammon-Ra, the sun god. The Greeks believed Ammon-Ra was the god, Zeus. Now, the kings of Macedonia maintained they were descended from Hercules, also a mortal son of Zeus. Alexander’s mother believed Alexander to be conceived by the god himself, disguised in her husband’s mortal form. Alexander gained confirmation of his demi-god status by the oracle, and thereby declared it to his kingdom.”

I took a few shaky steps up the staircase. “Let me guess—he used his divine status to rally the troops to conquer the rest of the world.”

“Right,” said Matt. “He conquered past the Middle East and India. Alexander’s horse, Bucephalus, his most prized possession, was killed in the battle in what is today known as Pakistan. This horse was said to be a gift from Poseidon. Losing this horse had a great effect on Alexander. The oracles at Delphi predicted that whoever should ride the beast would rule the world. It shook his image of immortality. After Bucephalus’s death, Alexander came down through India and old Lanka in search of one thing. I believe he employed a wizard to help him climb Adam’s Peak, a place said to be protected by numerous deities for this reason.”

“Which is?”

“Legend states that Adam’s footprint was once encrusted with gems from a grand tunnel.”

“Like the gem on the cross?”

Matt nodded. “A tunnel of gems in the mountains holds the water of life.”

“Water of life? Or the Healing Cup?”

“I believe so… another name for it may be the Holy Grail. All three legends have one thing in common—they promise immortality. However, Alexander didn’t get farther than Adam’s Peak. He didn’t find the cross.”

“But you’ve figured out what he didn’t.”

I slipped on wet stone. Matt’s arms caught mine. Hooded amber eyes caught mine. I pulled back.

“You stop?” our tiny guide said cheerfully. “We’re near, Memsahib.”

“You heard him, Memsahib. No stops,” said Matt.

“That’s not what he said.” I groaned and rubbed my thighs. Already strained from the climb up Adam’s Peak, they throbbed in pain.

Matt tugged me forward. “If you want me to tell you any more, you’ll come.”

I grabbed his bag again with a harrumph. “It better be earth-shattering.”

“I’ll leave that to my brother,” Matt retorted. He resumed the climb. “Alexander should have stopped to listen to the local legends a little more. In the epic Ramayana, King Rawana of Lanka kidnapped Prince Rama’s bride, Seetha. King Rawana’s ten heads signified his knowledge of the Vedas as well as magic and celestial events. Because of this, he was given the nectar of immortality by the creator god, Brahma. When Hanuman, the monkey god and agent of Rama, discovered Seetha at Ashok Vatica, Rawana’s grand palace near our hotel in Nuwara Eliya, Rawana had to escape with the princess. Rawana flew Seetha on a winged chariot to these secret caves. The caves serve as endpoints of a man-made tunnel system built inside these mountains.”

“Built by Rawana?”

“No one knows. The tunnels are said to hold many secrets, including Rawana’s tomb.”

“Rawana. The master of celestial events and holder of the nectar of immortality lies in these caves.”

“It gets better,” Matt said. “Lord Shiva, the god of destruction, gave Rawana a divine sword much like Excalibur. Prince Rama the avatar of Lord Vishnu, the maintainer god, used a bow and arrow to dislodge the nectar. I believe Rawana’s tomb is not here but his body was taken here and sent elsewhere. I sent Bors, Perceval, and Galahad after Bran of Pellam. We know Pellam died on the mermaid island. The stories say while Bors and Perceval made it back to Camelot, Galahad found the Cup and became desirous to leave in this world. Angels carried his body up into the gates of paradise. The place where the Healing Cup originated. I think Rawana’s body was taken to the same place.”

We reached the end of the steps. At the top, only a muddy path remained.

“I wait for you?” our guide asked.

Matt shook his head and paid him. The little boy quickly pocketed the bills. From the same pocket, he drew out a squashed red flower, handing it to me. “For you, Memsahib… Seetha’s flower for one as pretty as Seetha herself.”

I smiled and leaned down to take the offering. The smiling boy whispered loudly in my ear. “If the thin-lips sahib doesn’t want you, I’ll take you.” He flattened his lips, accurately mimicking Matt’s sour expression.

I let out a startled laugh and handed him a generous tip. While Matt scowled, the kid hurried off with a wave of his hand.

“Can we go anywhere without you charming the locals?” Matt groused.

“You’re just jealous, Thin-Lips.”

“Considering we’re about to go into a cave infamous for the supposed seduction of Seetha, you might want to reconsider before I feel challenged to defend my thin lips.”

“I’m sure you would rather kiss the gates of paradise,” I said dryly. “Do you want to tell me what this cave has to do with them?”

Matt walked up the hill to the entrance of the cave. “There have been many names attached to the gates of paradise. One is the Isle of the Blest.”

“Isle of the Blest?” I squeaked. “It’s practically required for anything with a name like the ‘Isle of the Blest’ to have a booby trap.”

Matt sighed. “It has other names. The Greeks called it the Elysium Fields, a sanctuary of healing, peace, and tranquility. Located past the River Lethe, the stream of oblivion and mortal life, it is the final resting place of all heroes. In yet another legend, a hero was brought to the island by the Lady of the Lake.”

“King Arthur?”

“I’m not sure I believe that one, but yes, after his death at Mt. Camlan.” With a grin, Matt gestured at the yawning mouth of a cave. “Arriane DuLac, I believe the Healing Cup lies in Avalon and the door to it lies in these caves.”

***

Two hours later, I sat down on a slab of barren rock. “Nope, no dead heroes, creepy demons, or supernatural gateways in sight. It’s just an ordinary cave.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled,” Matt commented.

The inside of the Rawana Ella Cave had an ordinary dirt floor, barren interior, and endless sloping rock. No writings. No treasure. No Healing Cup. Decently roomy, the front cave expanded to one hundred and fifty feet in length. Other openings, the size of small rooms, could be found here and there as offshoots of the main chamber.

A tunnel opened at the back of the cave. Matt used drops of a magical liquid to mark our trail and a floating orb to light the way. Not that I knew why we needed magic for this. A rope would have worked (Theseus used a plain string to get out of the maze when he went after the Minotaur), and I would have been more comfortable wearing hard hats with head torches.

The tunnel didn’t lead us far. Over time, the rocks shifted to block the networked passage. I looked up at the slanted ceiling and inhaled damp dirt and moss. I wondered about my own Minotaur. Was Vane really trailing us as Matt thought?

Matt threw a vial of green potion against a random wall. The hollow chamber shuddered as he blasted a small hole. Rock fragments fell from the ceiling and smacked me on the head.

“Merlin!” I brushed rock bits off my head. “Are you trying to kill us?”

“The dampness has to be coming from somewhere, but the cave just drops off here.” He huffed in frustration and drew out a guidebook. “All of these caves around the mountain were supposedly interconnected at one point.”

“Don’t you have a map? Like one that tells us where to go?”

“I meant to get one from the government, but after Robin, I don’t want to contact anyone. Surprisingly, none were marked ‘X’ for Avalon.”

I marched over to him. “You make a terrible pirate.”

He flipped through the guidebook. “I’m better at magic—if I had any.”

“Poor you,” I snapped. “Forced to use ingenuity instead of your easy button. Why don’t you tell me exactly why you brought us to this tunnel? Or is that still a big secret?”

“The tunnels lead off into the various places in the kingdom… or they all lead into one place. There are several openings. We’re in Rawana Ella Cave. Then, there’s Isthripur Cave at Welimada, Senapitiya Cave at Halagala, Ramboda—”

“So why this one?” I interrupted him.

“Rawana came here first with Seetha after Ashok Vatica. It makes sense he would take her to the place he considered the safest.” He mumbled under his breath, “And this was the closest to Adam’s Peak.”

I grabbed the guidebook from his hand. The pages were open to a section marked “Exploring the Epic Journey of the Ramayana.” I skimmed over the passage detailing Rawana’s hiding of the kidnapped Princess Seetha in the mountain gardens of Ashok Vatica. After Hanuman, the monkey god, discovered her at the gardens, Rawana took her in a flying chariot to the caves we stood inside. The caves across Lanka connected to the same tunnel network. I turned the page.

The Rawana Caves were built inside Rawana Ella Rock. On the other side lay a pool where the princess bathed under a wondrous waterfall. The picture of the Rawana Ella Falls caused my heart to speed up.

“When are you going to figure out you can’t do this alone?” I turned the book around to Matt, my thumb on a picture of the falls. “We’re on the wrong side, oh wise one. I’ve seen this before in the vision Vane had.”

Two hours later, we stood on a road that ran directly in front of the falls. I pulled my jacket tighter around me. Clouds covered the late afternoon sky, chilling the air. It took us awhile to go back out of the winding cave and down through terraced gardens to get to the falls. I leaned my elbows on steel railings at the edge of the road.

“During the wet season,” read Matt from the guidebook, “the waterfall is one of the widest in the country. It resembles an upside-down areca flower with drooping petals—”

“Looks like a palm tree to me.” My eye caught one of many pins on my bag of a Buddha, sitting on top of a lotus flower. I pointed to it. “Or this.”

Matt gave me a withering gaze. “If you keep arguing with me, we’re never going to make it through this.”

“I’m arguing because I know what you’re going to ask me to do.” The waterfall, nestled in a V-shaped crevice in the hill, cascaded from a rocky outcrop above and fell about a hundred feet down over tiered boulders. Green fronds, shrubs, and trees lined the perimeter past limestone bedrock. Water dropped into a pool at the waterfall’s base and trickled down onto more rock. Underneath the road where I stood, it became a mossy creek.

Despite threatening grey clouds and cold blustery wind, people stood knee-deep in the legendary pool where Seetha was supposed to have bathed. Against one boulder, level to the road, metal pipes had been installed above the pool to facilitate the flow of water and made a nice shower for bathing. A few women in wet sarongs held tin buckets.

As the blowing wind shifted to a full-on howl, everyone hurried out of the falls.

I played with the zipper of my jacket. “In Vane’s vision, we were on one of the ledges above the pool. That’s where you get knocked off and plunge to your death. Have you noticed your visions have a nasty habit of coming true?”

“Had.” Matt grabbed my hand to stop my fidgeting. “I don’t have them anymore.”

I resisted rolling my eyes. “What if you do go over the ledge? What then?”

“You can rescue me.” His hand tightened briefly before he released mine. “If you care to do so.”

If you care to do so. In that accent of his, it sounded even more condescending. I ground my teeth. “How about I strangle you now and save myself the trouble?”

“It’s always been your choice.” Matt walked off toward the opening that led to the base of the waterfall.

Your choice. The same words Vane said to me. I bit my lip until I felt the sharp sting of pain. For a second, the teetering edge of my control balanced. It didn’t last.

I forced my drooping shoulders to straighten. The rush of the water soothed the jagged edges inside a brittle soul. I hugged the sound deep into myself.

Monkeys hugged the railing just before it ended at a slanted, grassy area that led up to the right side of the waterfall. The pool stood several feet above road-level. I bought quartz stones from one of the street sellers that traversed the field. By the time I caught up to Matt, he was standing beside the pool. I looked up. On the side of the falls where we stood, tiered boulders stacked uphill like stepping-stones for a giant... or a monkey god who once stood at the top of this rock and scoured Rawana’s realm for a lost princess.

“Done shopping?” He tied a rope around my middle and tightened its other end around his stomach. He pointed me toward an opening that showed a rough path up the rocks and started toward it. We climbed slowly up, gripping the surprisingly rough edges of the damp boulders. Several minutes later, I paused for a breath.

“These people are poor. I’m helping them,” I said.

“You’re helping to create a demand that can’t be sustained. What will happen if tourism stagnates, and they’ve all stopped farming to sell trinkets and become guides? Who will feed them then?”

“Maybe the tourism won’t stop. What’s wrong with a little progress? It’s a new world, Merlin. Embrace it.”

“Technology doesn’t change people’s basic needs or their natures,” he muttered. We reached one tiered level above the pool. Matt kept going.

I said to his back, “You’re such a pessimist.”

“Realist,” he answered. “People from this time have a certain expectation from life that didn’t exist in mine.”

“Did you just call me spoiled? You can’t tell me you’d rather go back to the Dark Ages. Starvation. The Plague. No plumbing,” I said. “Exactly what is this certain expectation?”

We made it to the second tier. He walked over a thin ledge to a boulder close to the waterfall and tested a small foothold. I tugged at the rope around our middles. It yanked against his stomach. He stilled. “In a sense, life back then was easier.”

Life without you was easier.

I crossed the ledge to face him. “If I’m so spoiled, then why do you bother with me at all?”

Shadows darkened on his face as the afternoon slipped into evening. “You pulled the sword, Ryan. You’re capable of more.”

I stiffened. “I can only do what I can. I’m not changing for you.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Matt took a step closer. Our bodies stood a mere few inches apart. He reached out a hand. It hovered just under my chin but didn’t make any contact.

“I’m asking you to make choices, Ryan.” Soulful, amber eyes captured mine and refused to let go. He said huskily, “I’ve told you multiple times how I feel. You’ve never replied.”

For a second, I forgot to breathe. I forgot everything, but us. In this spot. At this time. Roaring water slammed against rocks with the same intensity as my own pulse beat against my eardrums. I whispered, “Maybe because I’ve never believed you.”

Matt let out a small, startled laugh. “You don’t believe me or believe in me?”

“I could say the same,” I retorted.

His head bowed down. “What else need I do to convince you?”

A burning ember lay banked, waiting for me to fan it, to give it permission to blaze. I looked into those hooded eyes and knew he was right. I had to make a choice.

The problem was—if I did, could I live with it?