Elam pulled away from Sapphira. He gave her a shy smile and nod, then turned his gaze upward, blinking at the sheets of rain. “Any idea where we are?” he asked.
Sapphira took in a long breath. “No clue, and I really don’t care.” She picked up the Ovulum from the mud, wiped it on her sleeve, and slid it into the pocket of her dampening dress. “I have Elohim’s prophet with me, so I have a guide.” She took Elam’s hand. “And I have a warrior with me, so I have a protector.”
Elam kept his gaze focused on the ground. “If you say so,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He looked up at her, his face shining in spite of the gloomy skies. “Even though I’m not the strongest guy around, or the bravest, I’ll be the best warrior I can be.” As his glistening eyes locked on Sapphira’s, he raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. “But, no matter what happens, I won’t ever betray the girl who risked her life to feed me. That’s a promise.”
Chapter 8
Merlin swung his oar at the serpent, gashing its throat as its body lunged over his dugout canoe. He kicked the snake back into the water, thrust the oar against the muddy bottom of the swamp, and shoved the boat toward shore. Now at a depth of only a couple of feet, he jumped into the water and sprinted toward the grassy beach, splashing through the shallows. When he neared the shore, he vaulted toward the bordering grass and rolled to a stop next to a lush apple tree.
He clutched his chest and took in long, slow breaths, hoping his heart wouldn’t leap out of his throat. He glanced back at the swamp. The roiling snake bodies had submerged, and the surface was once again calm. Fumbling with the folds of his robe, he uncovered his scabbard and pulled out his sword. He wouldn’t be caught with only an oar in his hand again.
Merlin sat up and gazed at the castle on the hill, wondering at the familiar constellations riding above the twin turrets. Why would the stars of the living world be in the skies over Hades? He shrugged his shoulders. At least he had finally found her. Tracking Morgan had been much more difficult than he had imagined. It had been a big enough surprise when she transformed into a raven, but when she vanished through a dimensional portal, he couldn’t believe it! A wraith, a sorceress of old, had invaded England with her ancient black magic.
He rose to his feet and began trudging up the slope. The days of tedious research had finally paid off. Yet, learning who this woman really was proved to be a curse. With her prowess at the dark arts, every inch of his journey could bring a new puzzle to solve. . or another dangerous trap to avoid.
After coming under the shelter of a high portico that led to the main doors, he halted. A shadow, small and fleeting, like a child’s frightened ghost, scurried for cover behind a marble column. Merlin watched the column for any sign of movement. It wasn’t just his imagination. In this domain of wraiths, who could tell what evil might be lurking in the shadows?
Keeping his sword clearly exposed, he strode confidently to the door. If the mysterious ghost had plans to attack, it probably would have done so by now. He grasped the ornate knob, and the force of his hand swung the door noiselessly, opening it about a quarter of the way. He peered into the dim anteroom, then, allowing the sword to lead the way, he squeezed through the gap. When he cleared the door, he pushed it with his backside, but not far enough to engage the latch.
As he passed under an archway, a single torch hanging on a side wall flickered brightly, allowing Merlin to scan the enormous chamber, perhaps a ballroom or a meeting hall. Dozens of candelabras dangled from a high ceiling, and a huge rectangular table adorned the center.
Shifting his eyes back and forth, Merlin walked slowly toward the table. Tall chairs surrounded the dark wooden surface, each with padded headrests and elaborate trim. Near the head of the table, a marble chessboard sat at an angle, as though the master of the house had planned to play someone at the adjacent seat. Tall, wooden chess pieces stood around the board in mid-play, awaiting their marching orders. The white king, dressed in a purple-trimmed robe and carrying a rugged cross, sat on a muscular white horse. On the other side, the black king, dressed in red-trimmed mail and a turban of intertwined snakes, rode on an armored black dragon.
Something moved a shifting shadow seated at the tallest chair. A voice, soft and sultry, rose from the shadow. “Welcome, Merlin.”
Merlin nodded. “Morgan Le Faye, I presume.”
She gestured toward the seat next to hers. “You survived my serpents. I’m impressed.” A black cobra-shaped pawn advanced on the board by itself, threatening an opposing rook, but a white knight jumped to the pawn’s space and crushed it into dust.
Eyeing the enchanted pieces, Merlin slid the chair out and sat, keeping his legs swung to the side. “I prefer to speak without pretense, Morgan. I know who you really are.”
“Of course you do.” Morgan pulled close to the table and propped her folded hands. “You saw right through my facade in the king’s throne room, yet you refused to give away my identity. Why?”
A black knight jumped in front of its queen. The orange-eyed horse pawed its square, snorting viciously.
“You give me too much credit,” Merlin said. “I knew you were not the king’s sister, and I suspected that you were not fully human, but I didn’t guess that you were once called Lilith until I found an ancient scroll that described two wraiths who stalk the righteous in winged forms.”
“Ah! So in Arthur’s court you only suspected my true identity, did you?” Morgan leaned back in her seat and smiled. “Still, it would have been easy for you to prove my lack of normal humanness, but you chose to suffer embarrassment instead. I must know your reason.”
The white king advanced one square, slashing in front of him with a gleaming blade. The black knight leaped back to its previous space.
Merlin tightened his grip on his sword. “The king would have demanded Excalibur from me and executed you on the spot. He suffers no sorceress to live in his domain.”
“The king would have demanded nothing of the sort. A potion I gave him saw to that. He was so strong, it took a triple dose, but his brain was sufficiently muddled in time for the council of war.”
Merlin sighed. “I thought he seemed rather confused that day.”
“Still,” Morgan continued, “you sacrificed your standing to keep me safe. Why do you care if I live or die? What am I to you?”
He glanced between Morgan and the chessboard’s black queen. Both flashed shining red eyes. “According to my research,” he said, “you could be more human than you realize. You still have a soul a dark, corrupt soul, but a soul, nonetheless.”
“And you, in your vacuous perception of the higher moral ground, want to save my soul.” Morgan sneered at him. “How noble of you.”
Merlin folded his hands on the table. “I’m not seeking nobility, but if you wish to learn how to be redeemed, there might yet be a way. First, however, you would have to obtain a new body.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Morgan stood and rubbed her hands along her hips. “I can mold this body into any shape I choose.”
“Shape without substance is a mere shadow. I know you want more.”
She stood and slinked toward him. “Of course I do. I always want more, and I always get what I want.” She touched the top of his head and swirled his hair around her finger.
Merlin shot to his feet, toppling his chair as he stepped back. “You cannot have what belongs to another.”
Morgan laid her hands on his shoulders and pouted. “Why can I not be your Gwendoloena, at least while you’re here?” Her hands slid toward his cheeks, and she pursed her lips. “After all, what happens in the circles of the dead remains a secret forever. No one needs to know what you do here.”
He grabbed her wrists and glared at her purple-stained palms. “My wife’s name is Gwendoloena only in my songs, for I would never tell you her real name, and no power-draining spell is going to make me betray her.”