CHAPTER 4
When Mercer arose from his bow, he found himself standing not in the midst of Lady Vivian's throne room but on a cliff overlooking the wild and raging sea. He should most likely have been astonished, but he found he was growing rather used to the occult power of the Fair Folk.
"We're in Cornwall," he observed to no one in particular, looking around him at the gray surroundings.
Lady Vivian, standing nearby, inclined her head. "You are most perceptive, Mercer," she said. Mercer wondered if there was a hint of derision in her tone. "Merlin and I came here once, many long years ago, when he loved me still. I sought a way to bind his magic, for he was going mad in his dotage. Quite old, he was – over seven hundred years, you know."
"Impressive," Mercer said absently. "Where is he?"
Vivian laughed musically. "You are so impatient," she said. "All mortals are. But very well; I will lead you to him at once."
"As you promised," Mercer reminded her none-too-gently.
He heard Vortigern take a step forward, but Vivian waved him away. "Leave him," she said. "He speaks his mind. I cannot fault him for that."
She turned and raised one shining white arm, pointing towards an empty stretch of heath. Mercer squinted, trying to see the thing she was pointing towards, but there was nothing. "Milady, I don't see – "
Suddenly the sky and grass seemed to peel away, and the long, tall form of a smooth gray stone tower appeared. Rising high above the cliff, it was windowless and seemed to stretch on into the stars.
"There the wizard lives," Vivian said, her voice dark. "You are free to go to him now. Be forewarned – the spell will only be removed an hour. And if you betray me, only death will await you."
"Of course, of course," Mercer said, impatiently waving her away. "Now, how do I get in?"
"There is a door directly before you," Vivian said. "Walk forward, and you will have your entrance. When you are ready to leave, walk out the way you came, and you will arrive here."
Mercer took a hesitant step forward – then another step. Nothing happened. He glanced over his shoulder, but the Lady and Vortigern were nowhere to be seen. He turned about and took another step forward –
And found himself in the midst of an enormous circular chamber.
The chamber seemed cold and unfriendly. It took Mercer's eyes a moment to adjust, and when they did he was not altogether comforted by what he saw. Littered with papers, books, and broken quills, it looked like a scholar's study had exploded within the room. It was dark and shadowy and dead silent – never a good sign. Immediately on the defensive, Mercer grabbed for his pistol and held it before him, eyes darting to and fro.
"No mortal weapons can protect you here, sir," an ancient voice, crackling like dry leaves, said. "You have entered the prison of the Wizard Merlin, though I surely cannot begin to fathom how."
Mercer let the pistol drop to his side, glancing slightly to his right. There stood the wizard, bent and gray and weighed down with heavy black robes. Occult symbols were stained on his hands, and his eyes were darkly shadowed with exhaustion and age. "Great wizard," Mercer murmured, bowing deeply.
"Respectful," Merlin said with an approving nod. "That, at least, is a good sign. You know your place."
"Too well," Mercer said dryly, observing as the wizard shuffled across the floor towards the center of the room. Mercer's eyes followed him distrustfully.
"You dress peculiarly," Merlin noted, dropping into a large chair draped in muslin – not the most comfortable seat, by any means. "Many long years must have passed. How many Kings have come and gone since Arthur ruled the land?"
Mercer blinked and tried to count. "Hundreds," he finally said, giving up. "King Arthur is to us little more than a legend – as are you, mighty Merlin."
"You flatter," Merlin said. "And you will find me unimpressed. You are a mortal man, and therefore cannot have entered here of your own will. Who has sent you?"
"A mortal master," Mercer answered.
Merlin frowned. "Impossible," he said. "A mortal could not have broken the spell the Lady Nymue cast here."
"You did not ask who helped me into the tower, but who sent me, and I answered truthfully," Mercer replied.
Merlin laughed. "You think yourself clever, I suppose," he rasped. "But you know what I meant to ask. Answer me this, then: who sent you into the tower?"
"The same lady that created it, great wizard."
Merlin's eyes grew huge in his ancient face, and his hands clenched into gnarled fists. "The witch is here!" he cried, pushing himself to his feet. "And she has sent you! Bah! What does she ask? Does she wish to toy with me further, to sap me more of my magic and knowledge?"
"She does not wish anything," Mercer said, hurriedly stepping back. "I came to her and asked to see you."
Merlin blinked, confused. "What for?" he asked, astonished. His eyes narrowed. "You too seek my knowledge, and wish to steal from me the power that I control!"
"Not so, noble sir," Mercer protested. He had rarely groveled this much in his life. It was making him physically ill. "If you please, I have a proposition of sorts for you."
"A proposition?" Merlin sneered. "How can this be? You have nothing I desire."
"I have your freedom," Mercer said confidently.
Merlin froze, eyes flickering all across Mercer's face. "Impossible," he said at last. "It cannot be."
"It is," Mercer said. "And I will give you your freedom in exchange for something you possess."
Merlin arched a brow. "What do I possess that you, a man who soon will die, could possible desire?"
Mercer's eyes wandered towards the middle of the room. Floating there in the center was a long, gnarled bit of wood – a staff, worn down where Merlin's hands had gripped it over the centuries.
Merlin caught the glance, and understood it at once. "The staff is mine," he growled, "And not for mortal use."
"So you say," Mercer replied, boldly taking a step forward. "Yet what use is it to you here? Lady Nymue stands outside, awaiting my departure. You will not be able to escape, but at the least you can take your vengeance on her for the years she's locked you up. A millennium and more have passed since she placed you here, but if you leave with me you will be free to battle her on the very ground where she imprisoned you." He crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow. "It's just a matter of giving me your staff," he said, shrugging slightly. "That's all I require. If you ask me, it's a very simple choice."
"I didn't ask you," Merlin snapped. He stared intently at Mercer, a war plainly raging within. "How is it that you can help me leave these walls?"
"Does it matter?" Mercer asked.
"What is your motivation?" Merlin questioned, eyes narrowing again.
"I've told you before: I want the staff."
"And why?" Merlin demanded.
"For the master who sent me."
"And that is?"
"Unimportant."
Merlin snarled and turned his back on Mercer. "You are an insufferable human!" he raged. "In my glory days I would have smote you!"
"In your glory days a silly faerie wench in flimsy clothes hadn't locked you away in a tower," Mercer countered. "Yet here we stand."
"Do not speak so blasphemously of the Lady!" Merlin roared, whirling back to face Mercer. "She is all that is glorious in womankind!"
"And yet she locked you here," Mercer replied.
Merlin visibly sagged. "And she is also, I fear, all that is wicked," he sighed. He looked old and frail and already defeated, but Mercer could feel the power thrumming from the old man's depths. "She sought me not for love, but for knowledge; she betrayed me when I was useful to her no more."
"Seems a bit of a theme in Arthur's life," Mercer noted. "Guinevere betrayed him, too…"
"As I warned him she would," Merlin said bitterly. "It was folly for me to seek love. And folly for any man who desires so deadly a thing." He pointed a long finger at Mercer. "If ever the desire should come over you to feel love, remember me, and you will be saved from its clutches."
Mercer inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I don't think my heart's much in danger, sir," he said in amusement.
"They never do," Merlin mumbled. He sighed, bowed his head, and fell silent.
Mercer observed him for several long moments. The old man's back was bent, and he seemed frail at a cursory glance, but his shoulders still spoke of strength. The years lay on him heavily, but the weight, it seemed, still kept him strong. "I hate to interrupt your thoughts," Mercer said, "But you've less than an hour to make your choice. If you dally beyond that, I cannot help you."
Merlin looked up, eyebrows drawn together into a tightly knitted V. "She's really out there?" he asked, nodding towards the window.
"She is."
"And you can take me from the tower?" Merlin pushed.
"I can."
He stared at Mercer several minutes more, then gave a nod. "Very well," he said. "The staff is yours."
Mercer did not dare believe that he had just won the prize he'd sought. He said nothing as he watched Merlin raise one hand. The staff slowly moved towards him across the room – painfully slowly. Mercer watched as it finally landed in the wizard's palm. His long fingers closed over it, and he used it to help him rise to his feet. He shuffled his way over to Mercer and then, with some regret, held out the staff to him. "Take it," he said. "And then get us out."
Mercer reached out and cautiously closed his own fingers over the staff. It sparked briefly and shuddered in his hand, and then was still. It felt, surprisingly, like a very ordinary piece of wood. He stared at it in brief disbelief, then shrugged and hoisted it over his shoulder. He turned away from Merlin, missing the wizard's wince. "If we walk forward a few feet," he said, "We should be able to leave."
"I've walked this way many times," Merlin said incredulously. "Never have I been able to escape."
"Of course not," Mercer said. "The Lady did not open the door for you. But she has for me."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "She must not have known what you intended."
"You know, I don't believe she did," Mercer said with a crooked smile. "In fact, I half expect she'll have me dead before I can get away with this."
"She will, if she can see you," Merlin said, "Or if you remain within her realm after we have battled – assuming, of course, that she survives."
"You don't believe she will?"
"I hope not," Merlin sighed, "But then, I have a bit of weakness for her."
Mercer was about to respond when he very abruptly felt himself drop – and found himself standing out on the open cliff again. Merlin followed him not long after.
"The ocean!" Merlin cried in delight. "It has worked, you have done it!" He turned, eyes gleaming, to Mercer. "For your service, worthy gentleman, I grant you this spell, so that the Lady and her faerie kin shall never be able to see you again." He murmured a few words in a tongue Mercer did not understand and waved a hand before Mercer's face. Mercer waited to feel something – anything – but it seemed nothing happened.
"I don't feel any different," he murmured.
"Of course you don't," Merlin said. "It's only a spell that protects you from Fae like – "
At that instant, a shriek of fury echoed across the cliff. "Merlin!" the shrill voice cried. "How have you escaped? Who has done this?"
Merlin's face hardened. "Flee, friend," he warned. "This fight is not for mortals such as you to see."
Mercer didn't need a second warning. He hoisted the staff over his shoulder and began to run along the edge of the cliff, hurtling as fast as he could away from the wizard and Faerie.
"MERCER!"
The scream made his skin crawl. The melodious voice of the Lady Vivian was barely recognizable beneath her wrath. "MERCER, YOU HAVE BETRAYED ME!" she howled. "YOU SHALL SUFFER FOR THIS! A THOUSAND CURSES BE UPON YOU!"
Mercer darted away from the voice as Merlin's laugh cut across Vivian's screams. "You will waste your fury on a mere mortal, Nymue?" Merlin asked. "Come, do battle with your true equal – the man you dared think you could imprison!"
"And you shall be imprisoned again, doddering fool that you are! What vengeance can you hope to have?" Vivian cried.
Mercer spared a glance over his shoulder. Vivian was floating in midair, her hair a nimbus of lightning circling her head. Her eyes glowed with her fury, and her gown swirled about her as though a storm were trying to blow it away. Below, Merlin stood defiant, his robes and beard blowing behind him and his jaw stubbornly set. Between them strode Vortigern, a dark frown crossing his face. He was most certainly searching for Mercer – but though his eyes passed over Mercer's body, it was plain that he couldn't see the errant mortal.
Mercer breathed a sigh of relief. Merlin's spell had worked, then. And that meant that Mercer was permanently hidden from the eyes of the faeries. With that sort of power, he could do almost anything...
Mercer noted that Vortigern's beautiful horse, Catie, was standing nearby, pawing nervously at the ground. Mercer remembered how Catie had responded to him, the immediate connection they had felt. He crept slowly towards the animal, praying he would not be caught.
He heard a sharp crackle, and a bright white light burst from the sky downwards. It was blocked at once by a heavy shield of darkness, thrown by Merlin as protection. Vivian screeched in fury and hurled more spells at Merlin, but each was blocked almost at once. Merlin began hurtling spells back at her, and soon the sky above was an explosion of light and color and sound. The two immortal voices echoed and howled like a gale, spitting curses in tongues so ancient that no man had ever heard them spoken.
It was difficult to focus under such circumstances, but Mercer was accustomed to noise and panic. He continued to make his way steadily towards his goal, and finally found himself standing just behind the beautiful faerie horse. Cautiously, he put a hand on her flank. She whinnied and shied away. Quickly, so as not to alert Vortigern, he hurried forward and grasped her head, whispering gentle words in her ear. Soothed, she stopped moving and stood still, though her eyes still rolled at the sounds nearby.
Carefully, Mercer leapt up onto her back. When he felt he was seated as comfortably as possible, he dug his heels into her sides and set her off running as fast as she would go. "I want to go home!" he called to her, and somehow it seemed she understood perfectly. She changed direction and began to vault across the open spaces, away from the ocean and a little inland.
"NO!" Vortigern howled, and Mercer realized at once that the Fae had seen the horse go.
"Run, Catie!" he hissed through gritted teeth. The horse increased her speed, flying faster across the ground than Mercer had thought possible.
"Mercer!" Vivian's voice burst across the plains, shaking the ground with her rage. "You will pay for this! You will pay!"
"So you keep saying," Mercer muttered, "But until you have me imprisoned I won't believe it."
"Why can I not see you?" Vivian screamed.
"Don't bother!" Mercer heard Merlin laugh. "You won't see him again."
"You've aided him!" Vivian cried. "Vile old man! Woe that I ever suffered your touch!"
"Woe that I ever wished to touch you at the first!" Merlin replied, and then there was an enormous crash.
Catie was hurtling across the land now. Plains and forest flew past at dazzling speed. Mercer felt his heart pounding in his throat. He had no idea how far the border to the mortal world was, but he needed to get there before Vivian defeated Merlin. Assuming, of course, that Merlin was going to lose.
And Vortigern was surely on his tail, too, trying to regain his stolen horse and bring back the criminal his mistress desired. But if Vortigern was calling to Catie, she wasn't heeding him. She was flying across the ground, and now Mercer thought he could see a wavering outline – an edge. The border!
"Why did you help him?" Vivian demanded. Her voice boomed like thunder overhead. "Why did you help a mortal?"
"He released me," Merlin replied. "And in return he carries now my staff – and my blessing. Great shall be his name in history – Mercer the Fae-Thief, greatest of heroes, legend among mortals!"
"The staff?" Vivian shrieked. "The Fae-Thief? Is this why you came, mortal man, to steal from us? Miserable rat! I shall curse the day I ever chose to bring you into my kingdom!"
"Too late for that, Nymue," Merlin sneered. "The Fae-Thief has gone."
Vivian screamed, a long, loud scream that sent a tremor up Mercer's spine and nearly had him falling from Catie's back. Then, there came the sound of a mountainside crumbling, and Merlin gave a shout of terror.
"BACK, WIZARD!" Vivian cried. "BACK TO THE TOWER WHENCE YOU CAME! AND MAY YOU NEVER ESCAPE IT AGAIN!"
"Noooo –!" Merlin howled, and was cut off.
Mercer winced, and silently thanked the old wizard for all he had done. Then his focus returned to the border that was drawing ever closer, a wavering edge of light and shadow that would set him free.
From behind him, Mercer heard Vivian's voice roaring over the plains of Fae. "I know not where you are, Mercer the Fae-Thief – but you will pay for your crime here!" she warned. "You come into my city, you betray my trust, you release my enemy, and you steal three of our belongings! How dare you take the staff from us – and the sheath, the sheath that I created for a king far greater than you shall ever be! How the mare Arianrod will bear you I know not!" There was a deafening pause, and then the voice was a low growl on the horizon. "I curse you, Mercer," she hissed. "I curse you! She who you love most dearly now will perish by your hand! And one day I will send for you a Fae siren whose innocence and beauty you will not be able to resist – and you will watch as you destroy her, too!"
The last echo of the curse burst over the fields of Faerie just as Mercer leapt back into the mortal world. Arianrod reared back in astonishment at the change in the air – she clearly knew the difference between the boundaries of Faerie and the mortal realm. She tried to turn back, but Mercer held her reins. "This way," he ordered, his voice surprisingly gentle. "This way, girl…"
He was amazed at how quickly and easily she obeyed him. She trusted him, this beautiful Fae mare – trusted and liked him. He spurred her forward, and she ran from the borders of Faerie with an almost despairing whinny. Mercer felt her pain and pitied her, but there was nothing he could do for the creature; there was no way in hell he was returning there again – not after the curse Vivian had issued on him. He would be dead faster than he could blink if he ever wandered into Faerie again.
Gratefully, he road like the wind towards London, leaving the echoing words of the curse behind him.
*
