CHAPTER 23
THE BLADE STRIKES
Owain saw Uther baring his teeth. Colvarth tugged on the king’s belt, whispered in his ear, and then pointed at Mórganthu.
“Vortigern,” Uther called, and his battle chief attended him at once. They conferred for a moment, and then Vortigern summoned half the warriors. These stepped forward and slid their steel from their sheaths.
“What’s happening?” Merlin asked in Owain’s ear.
Owain placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “It looks like Uther’s going to confront Mórganthu.”
Merlin blew out a short breath. “How could he not? This is treason.”
“Aye.” Owain watched as Uther reached to pull his own sword from its sheath but found it missing. He jumped down and kicked among the tall grasses for the blade, which he’d thrown there, but not finding it, he returned to the Rock of Judgment and — to Owain’s delight — picked up the new sword. The sunshine blazed off of its lustrous surface as Uther tested its weight and balance.
He seemed satisfied, and Owain told Merlin the news.
Uther stalked off, stiffly, toward the druidow with Vortigern and his twenty warriors behind. The other half stayed behind in vigilant guard over Igerna and the children.
Onward they advanced, as fast as the High King could move with his uneven stride. How the sight of that limp pained Owain now, but he pushed the thought aside. Taking Merlin’s arm, he followed the king’s company at a distance as the villagers parted to admit the wave of armed men.
The advance of fierce-eyed warriors sent a panic through the ranks of druidow. One druid in a brown cloak tried to run but smacked into another, and both fell. Yet another druid ran sideways near Vortigern, and the battle chief shoved him face-first into the dirt. Only the center held as Mórganthu pulled Anviv and his robed druidow close to the Stone.
Owain had fully expected to see blood, but none was shed. The warriors had bluffed their way through, and now Uther stood before Mórganthu, whose eyes flashed as he stood firm, staff held at the ready.
“You call for rebellion, druid. Leave this island and let your name never be spoken of again. You will be forgotten, and your gods along with you. I command it.”
“It is we who are in power here,” Mórganthu answered with a sneer.
Uther pressed the tip of his sword through Mórganthu’s beard and brought it near the man’s heart. “You are a fool. Take your magician’s rock and go.”
“We will take it. In truth, we have come to remove it back to the Gorseth Cawmen. Tonight we light the Beltayne fires after the double descent of the moon and the Seven Torches, and then” — Mórganthu smiled — “and then …”
“What?” Uther demanded, now pushing the blade against Mórganthu’s chest. “You waste your speech calling on the old gods.”
“Our gods have power, and woe to any who oppose.” Mórganthu spit on the sword.
In response, Uther sliced the chain of Mórganthu’s crescent-moon amulet, and it fell to the dirt. “You test my patience. Leave this place now!”
Mórganthu glared at Uther as he picked up his amulet. “You malign me because you do not believe. You malign me because your criminal of a bard does not believe. But the Druid Stone is before you, O doubter. Look and behold true power!”
And as Mórganthu stepped aside, he struck the Stone twice with his staff, and from its surface blazed a blue fire higher than Owain had ever seen.
Uther eyed the Stone in surprise.
Merlin pulled closer to Owain. “Tas? What’s happening?”
“I’m trying not to look at the Stone, but Uther sure sees it. We should’ve warned him.”
Uther’s face lost all expression. His hands and arms relaxed, causing the tip of the new sword to descend until it touched the grass.
Anviv stepped up to the High King and mocked him, saying, “Ha! You see, O father, even the mighty Uther falls before the power of our Stone!”
Owain shuddered and turned to Merlin. “We have to stop this. Uther’s become enchanted.”
He stepped forward, but Merlin pulled his arm. “No, we need to pray! I’m convinced that’s the only way to save him.”
“He has to look away from it.” Owain shook off his son’s hand, but before he could take another step, Merlin wrapped his arms around his father’s chest in a powerful hold, restraining him.
“Father God, we pray for our king, the king you have appointed to rule over us. Free him from this sorcery …”
Owain tried to agree in his mind with the prayer, yet the events before him fought for his attention.
Anviv waved his hand in front of Uther’s face. “Where is your strength, O forceful one? Where is your justice?”
Uther blinked.
Anviv almost danced around the High King. “His majesty … servant of the Stone!”
Uther’s lips twitched, and he shook his head.
Mórganthu tried to pull Anviv back, but he ignored his father.
“Fall prostrate, mighty king,” Anviv jeered up at Uther’s face. “Touch the Stone of Abundance, and then kiss the foot … kiss the foot of the arch druid!”
A rage crept onto Uther’s face, and he jerked backward from the Stone as if escaping the talons of an invisible beast. Lifting his new sword, he swung with astonishing speed, and in that deadly arc, he sliced through Anviv’s neck.
Owain gasped as the head and body fell to the ground at the same instant, the face of Anviv frozen in mockery, and his copper torc rolling away, bloody, on the grass.
“What is it, Tas? Has Uther —?”
“No … he didn’t … he didn’t touch the Stone.”
Owain fell to his knees, and his tongue caught in his throat. He’d seen much worse before, but it had been a long time.
“What? Tas!”
“Anviv is dead.”
Mórganthu fell stricken beside the body of his son, his beard trailing in the blood as he picked up the fallen head. All the druidow retreated from Uther, who still held his sword at the ready, his eyes aflame.
“Noooo!” Mórganthu cried, and tears rolled from his eyes.
Uther pointed to Anviv’s head with the sword. “What of this wolfish druid? Let the dead die!”
“He … was my son,” Mórganthu shrieked.
The High King stepped back, his mouth pressed in a firm line and his warriors gathered silently around him.
Mórganthu smoothed back Anviv’s hair, his hand leaving a slick of blood across the strands. “A curse … on you, Uther mab Aurelianus … a curse on your life! May Belornos drink deep of the blood of your house!”
Mórganthu stood and called the druidows to him. They picked up the body and torc of Anviv while others took up the leather tarp with the Stone suspended inside.
Mórganthu turned to the speechless villagers and said through his tears, “Come this night, O people! Bring your animals for purification to the Beltayne Feast and the Night of Fire. There, with smoke, we will cleanse ourselves from the rot of” — his voice broke — “this High King and his false god. We will have roasted meat, bread, and drink in abundance for all. And we will dance and dedicate ourselves to Belornos … and the Stone which he sent.”
All around, the people nodded, but the thought sickened Owain. How could they be so easily led astray?
With Mórganthu in the rear, the druidow departed the village green as quickly as they had come. Before passing through the gate, Mórganthu pointed at Uther and mouthed words that couldn’t be understood. Then cradling the head of his son, the arch druid departed with wailing and cursing.
And there, even as storm clouds blew in from the west, Owain saw Garth walking alongside Mórganthu and holding on to the old man’s belt.
Merlin’s frustration rose as the moments went by. What had just happened? Being nearly blind was tolerable during mundane activities, but it stretched his patience to breaking when important events rolled past all around him. And his father explained all too little.
Then someone called his name. “Merlinus! It is Uther speaking. As of this day, you are my servant. Take my sword and clean it.”
With a deep breath, Merlin let go of his father’s reassuring shoulder and walked toward the voice until he stood before Uther.
“This weapon has served me well. Clean it, and I will receive your fealty.”
Merlin reached out his hands, palms open, and Uther placed the heavy blade there.
As Anviv’s blood smeared from the sword onto Merlin’s left hand, he felt dizzy, and the ground fell away from his feet. Everything in his weak eyesight turned to a soft whiteness, and waves of mist beat upon his face.
Upward he felt himself fly, and Uther’s new sword became heavy. Merlin gripped its hilt with both hands but feared he’d lose his hold in the quickening rain.
Suddenly the rising motion ended, and he fell. With a great shock he crashed onto a hard surface. When Merlin opened his eyes, he found himself lying, wet and cold, at the edge of a small glade within a vast forest. And his eyesight was clear.
In the center of the glade stood a giant boar, grunting and snorting as he thrashed his feet in every direction to crush a mob that was attacking him. His massive bristled back reared eight feet high, his regal snout jutted two feet long, and along his flanks rippled muscles of incredible strength.
Merlin lay in awe, transfixed by the magnificence of the creature. Surely none like it existed in all creation. Outward from his mouth curved two tusks, each the length of Merlin’s forearm. Each swipe crushed or impaled an attacker — but these weren’t men!
Thousands of ratlike creatures, all carrying ropes and running on two legs. One belt-high creature scrambled past Merlin, its stinking fur coated in slime and a fang-toothed smile upon its face. Merlin watched in horror as they skittered around the boar, trying to bind his legs. The boar slew dozens of them, but for every one he slew, ten more took its place, and the boar was soon bound and cruelly stretched upon the forest floor.
Out from the shadows stalked a stranger, taller than Merlin, and he held a bronze sword. He was a beast in man’s shape, with yellowed skin, and his nose almost as long as the rats’. His pupils were a goatlike horizontal shape, and from his jagged teeth hung strings of raw meat. Antlers grew from his skull, and his head was covered with a mane of thick, silver-green hair.
A forked tongue slithered in and out of his mouth, and he turned to face Merlin. “Gettest thou gone, briiight one. Keep not Kernunnosss from his prey. It is I who claim the throne of the Lord of the Forestsss!”
Kernunnos jumped at the boar and drove his blade into his back.
The boar shrieked in mortal terror and thrashed wildly.
The fallen leaves became slick with blood.
Bile rose in Merlin’s throat. He wanted the boar to escape and turn on these vile hunters. He pulled Uther’s sword from where he had dropped it on the grass and tested it, sharpened to a deadly edge by his father just that morning. He stepped forward to save the boar.
By then Kernunnos had leaped around the great animal, and he lifted his bronze sword above the taut belly.
Merlin winced as he looked to the anguished face of the boar, who strangely was able to grunt the plaintive words of “Hhheelllppp. Hellpp maaay.”
It was Merlin’s last chance. He ran forward and yelled, “Stop … You will not harm this creature!” A half-dozen rats died under his swinging blade, and the rest backed away. He jumped into the center and started to sever the rope holding down the boar’s forelegs.
Before he could finish, however, Kernunnos ran toward him. “I warned youu, and ssso your flesh shall be feasssted as well!”
Their swords struck with a clang.
Again and again their blades met, and each time Kernunnos pushed Merlin back by the ferocity of his attack. Whenever Merlin tried to gain an advantage, his sword met either empty air or a slicing parry. Kernunnos pushed Merlin toward the rats, who now sported flint-tipped spears.
In desperation Merlin charged, but his foe jumped to the side.
Merlin tumbled to the ground with Uther’s sword flying from his hand. In panic, he stretched out and touched his fingers to the hilt.
He was too late.
Kernunnos had planted his foot on the flat of the blade, and try as he might, Merlin couldn’t wrench it free. The amber-colored blade of his enemy jabbed toward Merlin’s face, and the rats trussed him and hung him by his hands from a tree.
He kicked at the silent rats until he spied Kernunnos. Once again, the beast stood at the chest of the boar. This time he held Uther’s sword.
“No!” Merlin yelled.
Kernunnos’s goat eyes burned with glee. “You cannot ssstop mee, briight one, and now I use your own sssteel. There is only one Lord of the Foresssst, and I will have reeevenge!”
Uther’s blade plunged into the boar, who squealed in agony and arched his bristled back to pull away, but in vain. He shook his head, and blood poured from his mouth.
Kernunnos slit the boar down the front, and the rats rushed in to gorge their appetites.
Merlin wept, yet through his tears he beheld an angel in a blinding white robe. He spoke, and his mighty voice shook the trees.
“BEWARE EVIL, MERLIN!”
The angel disappeared in a flash of light.
And Merlin’s last memory before losing consciousness was Kernunnos slipping toward him through a haze. Before his face he held Uther’s bloodstained sword pointing to the moon.