Chapter Eleven

"Is it ready?" Veronica asked the question that all three of them were thinking.

Merlin replied, "I think so."

It had been five years since Morgana's headquarters were destroyed. Under an ordinary sorcerer, the three apprentices would have been finished with their training long ago, and become official masters themselves. Merlin was no ordinary sorcerer, however. He had much to teach yet, even beyond the level of master. His elite team accepted its continued apprentice status, for it was but a name. No Morganian could withstand them. Even the dark sorceress herself had to keep always on the move, never being allowed to stand and gather her network of soldiers.

The Merlinians took losses, too. Like a great black-and-red spider in her web, Morgana traveled to those areas of disturbance, alerted by her minions, where the enemy had been spotted. Of the nine warriors who had accompanied Merlin and his team to the battle, none now survived. Those apprentices who couldn't or wouldn't flee fared no batter.

The sorcerer war continued, though the numbers on both sides diminished for lack of recruiters. The need for more warriors grew ever stronger. Merlin focused his energies on developing his new Rising Spell while his apprentices rode out to battle. Finally, on this sullen February afternoon, he deemed it ready for its first test.

Now the four of them rode together along the road that led to market. Merlin drove a wagon today rather than his chariot, but they weren't going as far as the market town. They stopped at the site of their first meeting, where a wooded hill sloped away to their left. On foot, they climbed the slope.

The clearing on the other side was as they had left it. Alvar's tomb rose from the middle of the circle, a silent memorial to Balthazar's fallen master. In a few months, it would be the anniversary of that fall, when the apprentice made his annual trek to the gravesite, to visit and to keep it in good condition.

Balthazar raised his arms, the backs of his hands pressed together in front of him. He parted them, and the debris on the ground was swept away on either side of the cairn. He motioned toward the seedlings that had taken root inside the circle since last year, and they were pulled up and flung away. Only clean or mossy earth was left between the forest and the stone.

Merlin's part came next. A controlled ring of fire sprang up around the tomb. Six lines radiated out, ending at a double outer ring that burned not far from the trees. Symbols filled the six regions thus created. Merlin's Circle was complete.

He turned to his most recent apprentice. "You don't have to stay for this," he said. "You can wait by the horses until we're done. He won't be pretty after all this time, even if he weren't burned so badly to begin with."

Balthazar considered it, but then shook his head. "No, I'll stay. He should have a friendly face to greet him, assuming the spell works. Even if it doesn't, I'm not going to exempt myself from seeing what the rest of you have to see."

Merlin nodded approvingly. He clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder and smiled. "Good lad," he concluded. Then he turned back to the circle. The eyes of his dragon ring glowed.

At a wave from the master's hand, the cairn began to disassemble itself. Stones scattered into the surrounding woods, until only the shrouded body beneath them remained within the Forbidden Domain. Merlin stepped over the low-burning fire of his Circle. He stopped beside the body and spread his hands above it. A red glow rose from the domain's perimeter, settling over Merlin and gathering itself into his hands. They trembled with the power they held. He closed his eyes in concentration and began an incantation in the language of the people who had first discovered this realm.

Balthazar found himself drawn forward. He took a step, and the red glow flared and crackled. Another step, and it grew brighter. He reached the double outer ring of the Circle. Now there was no mistaking the effect of his approach. The glow was nearly white in Merlin's hands. Yes, this felt right. He just needed to get to the center.

The Circle wouldn't let him in. Now that the spell was in progress, there could be no disturbance, no new participant. Balthazar frowned with a sense of building dread.

Merlin, noticing the change even while he chanted, opened his eyes. They widened at the sight of the brighter light, then darted to his would-be assistant just outside the ring of fire, who was pressing his hands against an invisible wall, trying to get through it without success. He understood what was happening. The spell needed Balthazar for this particular subject, but he didn't dare tamper with the process already started. He shook his head, regretfully, and his apprentice ceased his striving.

He finished the incantation. The radiance coming from his hands crackled like the fire from which it was drawn, then flowed like water down onto the supine figure below, where it spread out and enveloped the body in its glow. Gradually, the glow was absorbed through and beneath the shroud as if it had never been. Merlin and his apprentices waited.

Movement! The watchers caught their breath. A skeletal hand crept out from underneath its covering, the sorcerer ring still hanging from one bony finger. The hand clenched the burial shroud and pulled it off. Alvar lived again.

...Or did he? The figure lying in the Forbidden Domain was nothing more than a skeleton . The clothes had been burned off, the skin charred to black before the creatures of earth consumed it. There was no flesh left. Even the shroud was tattered.

But the spell wasn't done yet. Slowly, the dry bones began to sprout tendons and muscles and veins. Organs reformed, ending with new, unsullied skin. Hair and nails grew back. The ring no longer hung loose, but fit comfortably on the hand of its owner. By the time the Circle allowed more people in, Alvar's body had attained the perfection of a Greek statue. Balthazar laid his mantle over the body, up to the shoulders, before he moved aside enough to let Veronica see.

The chest rose and fell, Alvar's first breath of new life. Hopeful smiles were exchanged all around. Then the man's eyes snapped open.

...Only they weren't the eyes of Master Alvar, physician and one-time Morganian. No, nor were they even human. Their ebony depths had been replaced with the glow that had been absorbed into them, the glow that took the place of Alvar's soul.

The resurrected body rolled over onto hands and knees, then stood, leaving the mantle on the ground. Quickly, Balthazar retrieved the garment and fastened it around his master's shoulders. The man just stared. Whether he recognized his former apprentice, Balthazar couldn't tell. He tried a friendly smile. "Welcome back, Master," he said. "It's good to see you again."

Alvar turned his head, taking in his surroundings. He froze when he caught sight of Merlin; then his face contorted in fear and hatred. He bolted uphill toward the circle's opening, brushing his mantle's donor aside without so much as a word.

The opening was blocked by Merlin's other two apprentices. They cast simultaneous spells to stop the runner, but to no avail. He slammed into the pair. All three went down as they grappled.

Veronica broke away, but Horvath was getting the worst of the fight. His attacker had the strength of an angry bear, and the ferocity to match. Horvath's knives couldn't even penetrate the new skin. Hands like iron clenched around his throat, and the pitiless eyes glowed with a fierce inner light. Veronica and Balthazar each grabbed one of Alvar's arms and strained to pull him away from their colleague. Horvath's face was going purple.

"Alvar! Stop!" Merlin commanded.

To everyone's surprise, he obeyed. The hands released their chokehold, unwillingly, and Horvath scrambled away gasping for breath. Veronica helped him up. Alvar glared at his new master, snarling his hatred. He climbed to his feet and turned to run again.

He didn't get far. With a tug of his hand, Merlin wrapped unseen cords around the fleeing sorcerer, binding his arms straight along his sides and tying his legs together. Alvar crashed to the ground. He roared his rage, but the cords held.

He was still struggling to free himself when his captors caught up to him and stood looming over him. "Be still," the old one said. He stopped fighting. "Who is your master?" he was asked. They wanted him to speak, but that ability was beyond him. Perhaps he had known how at one time, but not anymore. His past was lost to him. He remembered only that those around him were enemies-except for one. His eyes rested on that one, and the rage subsided into confusion. Who was he? He had known once. He yearned to know again. For now, though, the old one was his master He growled his answer in the absence of words.

Merlin had to be satisfied with that. Frowning, he looked up at his apprentices. "You couldn't stop him with either spells or weapons," he noted. "Let's see if that was a fluke. Try something harmless on him, let's say levitation, one at a time. Veronica, you go first."

Each of them made the attempt, and each of them failed. Other spells were equally unsuccessful. They tried two sorcerers working together, and finally all three. Their subject was unaffected. Only Merlin had any power over their prisoner. The master raised him so that he hovered upright just above the ground. He strove once more against his bonds, but even his superhuman strength availed him nothing. Merlin led them all back to the road, and Balthazar guided his old master with a hand at his elbow. Alvar floated to the wagon bed, where he was allowed to lie down, though still bound.

"I was hoping that our guest would be riding beside me on our way back," Merlin told them, the regret in his voice mirroring that upon his face. "It seems that the Rising Spell has more than one possible outcome."

While Balthazar made the guest as comfortable as possible, Horvath thought further ahead. "What are we going to do with him?" he asked. "Will you use him against the Morganians? He'd be a powerful weapon for us if we could control him."

"That's just it, though," replied the master sorcerer. "The spell was meant to bring him back completely: body, mind, and soul. It didn't achieve that because I left out the most important component." He glanced back at Balthazar, who was doing his best to soothe their new passenger. "I don't know how much of that component got through the Circle shield, but some of it did. You saw the change in the manifestation I was holding.

'So what now? Alvar isn't a mere beast, but he's not fully human, either. I don't know, Horvath. He would certainly be a strong weapon, as you say, but only if I'm there to control him. We don't kill unless we have to. Let me think about it on the way back to the castle."

In the end, it was decided that the spell's first test subject would be kept safely locked away. He was kept in a cell by himself, within which a chain tethered his ankle to the wall. Merlin himself had to cast a holding spell upon the chain to keep it from breaking. Alvar cowered away from his master, but lunged to attack any other visitor. Only Balthazar was able to calm him, though it was like calming a wild animal.

That first month, Balthazar spent most of his time with the new arrival, caring for his daily needs and providing companionship, as well as acting as a buffer for the castle's other residents. Eventually, his master came to tolerate, then finally accept, the presence of those others who came most frequently to visit: Agatha first, then John, then Veronica. The servants gradually took over the daily tasks necessary to keep their latest charge clean and healthy.

On this, the eve of Balthazar's departure with his fellow apprentices to battle another Morganian, he stood beside Alvar, who was seated on a stool getting a haircut. He held one trembling hand in his, a hand that could have crushed his in an instant. Blue eyes met and held their master's gaze. "Shh," he soothed, laying his free hand upon the other man's shoulder. "It's all right."

John, moving behind them with his scissors, flashed a grateful smile as he began his work. Alvar jerked instinctively. His hand squeezed, and Balthazar winced in pain. He endured it until the job was finished. The servant moved away, leaving the shorn tresses on the stone floor where they had fallen. Alvar released his grip then, but remained seated, still staring wordlessly at his comforter.

"I have to go now," the sorcerer told him regretfully. "I'm leaving tomorrow, and I don't expect to be back for a few days." There was no sign that his listener understood, but he continued anyway. "We're fighting Morgana."

At the mention of the enemy's name, the former Morganian's bright eyes narrowed, almost as if he recognized it.

Veronica, watching from beside the door, noticed. "Alvar, do you know Morgana?"

He turned his face to her, and the red glow within him threatened to overtake the brightness.

"You do, don't you?"

He growled. Even without words, his hatred of his former leader was evident. However, she wasn't here. Only friends, or at least non-enemies, were here. The red faded slowly. He was left mute and confused. Once more, he looked to the one he trusted above all others to ease his troubled mind.

Balthazar smiled in reassurance. "It's all right," he said again. "No more questions for now. Here, let's get you to bed." Gently, he pulled the other to his feet. Alvar allowed himself to be led to the cot, his ankle chain dragging behind him. He lay down on his side. His caretaker covered him with a thick blanket and gave his shoulder one last squeeze before leaving. "Good night, Master," the trusted one softly said. The glowing eyes followed him as he and the female departed.

"There's still hope," Veronica asserted when she and Balthazar were alone in the hall. "He's not completely beyond our reach."

Her friend was still discouraged, though. "I don't know, Veronica," he responded. "He hasn't spoken a word, and most of the time he doesn't show any reaction at all to what I say. I know he understands, but sometimes I wonder."

"He's made a lot of progress. You don't see it, because you're with him every day, but we do."

"Like what?"

She smiled. "Like, when he first came here, John wouldn't have been able to go anywhere near him. He's sleeping on a bed now instead of the floor. He drinks from a cup. He uses the latrine, and he keeps his clothes on even when we're not there to keep him from tearing them off. He can spend time alone without going into a frenzy until you come back. Best of all, the servants and I can be in his room without you, and he won't attack us as long as we don't do anything threatening."

"Like coming up behind him with a pair of scissors?"

She grinned back at him. "Yes. Not that they could penetrate that rock-hard skin of his, but I guess it's just the idea."

"He always was hard-headed."

"Unlike you, of course." The sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable.

"Of course." He gave her a quick hug, and she felt wonderful in his arms. "Thank you, Veronica. You're the best."

Merlin waited outside the cell until his apprentice finished his latest visit. "Any change?" he asked without much hope.

Balthazar shook his head. "None. He's no closer to becoming his old self than he was the day we brought him here. He's better at controlling his animal instincts, but he's nowhere near what we would call even a normal human child."

"That's disappointing," Merlin admitted, "but not surprising. It's been over a year. Morgana is growing stronger, even without her headquarters. I'm afraid we can't wait any longer."

Alarmed, the younger man drew back protectively against the cell door. "What do you intend to do, Merlin?"

"Oh, don't worry about your master. I won't hurt him."

"What, then?"

"Come on, let's go back upstairs." Merlin clapped a hand on the other's shoulder and led him away from the prisoner's room. "I want to talk to all three of you," he explained.

When they reached the training room, Horvath and Veronica were there already, waiting for them. Merlin began without preamble. "The Rising Spell cannot be used again. Since I'm the only one with enough power to perform it successfully, we have no more subjects on whom to use it. It requires love for the dead sorcerer in order to bring him back to human level." He grimaced. "I'm afraid there are no qualifying candidates."

Veronica pointed out, "The light changed when Balthazar came closer. If he had been with you in the Forbidden Domain, the spell would have worked as it was intended to, even though you were the one casting it. Is that correct?"

"Yes. Even the proximity had some effect, though not enough."

"So if someone used it with no love at all..."

"Morgana, you mean. No one else besides me has sufficient power."

She nodded.

"We can't let that happen. My Encantus is the only one with the spell, and it's going to stay that way. She's already taken those of the Merlinians she's killed. We can't risk her getting hold of this."

Balthazar hadn't forgotten their earlier discussion. "You said we can't wait any longer, Merlin. What do you have in mind?"

"Ah, yes. Well, since our numbers continue to dwindle, and resurrecting our dead is no longer an option, there's only one way that we can end this war. We have to kill Morgana."

"But she's too strong. You would have to do that yourself, and she's certainly not going to come here to fight you."

"Yes, I could do it...and so could my heir."

The apprentices stared in shock. It was Horvath who ventured, "You have an heir?"

Merlin gave them a wry smile. "I wasn't always an old man, you know."

"Then where is he?" asked Veronica. "Why is he not here?"

"I don't know," the master had to admit. "It was many years ago, during my period of wandering. There may be more than one; I only know of one for certain. She was a Romani. I traveled with her people for a few months, but I left before my child was born. When I returned later, they were gone.

'We need to find him, and any others of my line. Morgana avoids me, but she won't know about anyone else who can defeat her. The gift of magic isn't always given to our children or even grandchildren, but it will always show up again somewhere among our descendants. The seed is always there."

"So how do we find him?" Horvath wanted to know. "It's hard enough to find sorcerers as it is, never mind one in particular."

"Search. Keep searching. When you think you've found someone, bring him to me. My ring will tell us if he's a sorcerer, if we haven't found that out already, and if he's of my line."

"This quest sounds like it will take a while."

"Yes, Horvath, I expect it will take quite a long while. The sooner we start, the better are our chances of success. Oh, and don't tell anyone else about this. We can't take the chance of Morgana finding out."

"Yes, sir," the apprentices agreed as one.

The search was indeed long. Years passed, and they grew weary of their fruitless quest.

At breakfast one morning, Balthazar voiced the questions they all had: "Merlin, are you sure that your heir is even still alive? How do we know your line hasn't died out? Are we searching for nothing?"

The master sorcerer took a long sip of tea before replying. He looked as weary as his younger companions felt. "I know," he answered at last. He held up his right hand. "The ring tells me. I don't need it to do magic, but I wear it to reassure myself that my heir lives, or will live in the future. When my line is broken, it will free itself from my keeping. The dragon will fly away."

"How long, then? How far in the future? If it goes beyond our lifetimes, who will continue the search? Who will take our places?"

"There is no one else," Merlin said sadly. "You must continue."

"I don't understand. How?"

"I can stop the aging process for you." He spread his hands to include the other two. "All of you. Are you willing to see this through to the end? It may take generations.

'You should know, also, that you won't be able to sire or bear children as long as the spell is in effect."

The apprentices looked at each other, weighing their own hopes and dreams against the greater need of their mission. With a hint of dread, Veronica queried, "When will it end? I've always wanted to live quietly, to be a wife...and a mother." She glanced at her colleagues, sitting together across the table from her, but quickly shifted her gaze back to the master.

"It will end when Morgana is destroyed. I know this is hard, especially for you, Veronica, and I won't lecture you on the alternatives, or the stakes involved."

He didn't have to. They all knew the alternatives were few, the stakes their very reason for living.

At last, understanding their common mind, Veronica delivered the consensus. "We serve mankind. Morgana would have them be her slaves. We must defeat her, and we need to find the one who can do that. For myself, I choose to continue the quest."

Her peers quickly agreed.

Merlin nodded. He stood, and the others followed his example. Raising his arms as if in benediction, he pronounced words that sounded like a blessing. A gentle white glow from his hands flowed toward each of his apprentices in turn, settling over them and drawing itself into them as they breathed it in. When it was done, Merlin took his seat once more.

Balthazar smiled at the new feeling inside. "I feel younger already," he claimed. Then something else occurred to him. "Was that another spell from the Forbidden Domain? It reminds me of the Rising Spell."
"It's related," acknowledged the older man. "Your master hasn't aged since that day, either."

"He also hasn't improved." The bitterness in his voice was subtle, but it was there.

"I am sorry, Balthazar."

"What's done is done. At least we know what to do now, if there's ever an occasion to use the spell again."

"True enough. Someday, we may even find a way to help him."

"I hope so." Someday, he hoped to look into Alvar's face and see, not the bright light infused with fiery red, but the dark depths of human eyes looking back at him with recognition and remembrance. The search for Merlin's heir was to save mankind, but he had a personal search, as well-a way to save his master's soul.