shoreline and the very water itself from his sight. When he looked back toward
the bow, he saw that a great stone crag was rising out of the mists of the lake where there had been nothing but still waters
a moment before.
Merlin stared at it, marvelling at its sudden appearance. As the boat sailed closer, he could see a cave opening in the base
of the knoll, an opening that gaped as black and threatening as a dragon’s maw.
They were going to sail inside.
This was the first time it had occurred to Merlin that his journey might take him underground, and he was unprepared for the
sharp pang of pure panic that possessed him. He clutched at the side of the boat until his knuckles ached, and after a moment
he realized he was calculating the best way to jump into the lake and swim back to a shore he could no longer see.
Don’t be silly,
Merlin told himself chidingly.
The only things that are in a cave are bats and bears. The boat wouldn’t be sailing into it if it weren’t safe! And Mab is
waiting for you.
His apprehension faded as curiosity got the better of him. When he met Queen Mab, he would understand the other half of his
heritage, and that was something he longed to do.
The boat was close enough now to the cave for Merlin to feel the wind that blew from its mouth. It was colder than the surrounding
air, but instead of the lifeless scent Merlin associated with caves, this breeze smelled of something he could not put a name
to.
Magic?
The prow of the boat passed with slow majesty through the cave opening. Looking up, Merlin saw the rock seem to rise up and
crest over him like a breaking wave. A shudder of excitement passed through his body as he passed from light into shadow.
Now the roof of the cave was his sky, and when he looked back, his view of the enchanted lake was framed by rock.
The sound of the water slapping against the sides of his boat was loud now as it echoed from the walls, and the boat jostled
gently in the choppy water as it continued through the cave-turned-tunnel. A faint light seemed to radiate from everywhere,
so that he could still see what ought to have been dark, and it seemed to Merlin as if every sense he possessed was being
tantalized by some essence he could not yet sense. There was music he could not hear, sights he could not see, just out of
the reach of his mortal senses. He was beginning a great adventure.
This was magic.
Frik ran down the path to the boat landing, trying to run and dress and gather his thoughts all at once. The great day had
come, when the second stage of Mab’s plan would debut. Merlin was coming home to them.
Frik did hope the boy’s arrival would put Her Majesty into a better temper. She’d been very touchy since Julius Caesar had
invaded Britain, but the divine Julius hadn’t been one-tenth the trouble that Constant and his new religion had been. Once
the mortals had started pulling down her shrines instead of stuffing them full of Roman gods, she’d been quite impossible.
And of course, Vortigern simply made things worse. And he’d been all Mab’s idea.
Oh, well,
the gnome thought to himself,
least said, soonest mended.
At least having Merlin to teach would take Mab’s mind off of him for a while. Frik hadn’t at all liked living beneath the
constant threat of rockhood. What if Mab forgot about him and just left him to be a rock forever? It gave a chap the cold
wobblies just thinking about it.
And he did have to admit that he was interested in getting to know this Merlin. Of course, Her Highness was always bringing
home these seven-year stands, like that Thomas Whatsisname who’d wanted to be a poet. Remarkably bad verse, if Frik remembered,
and eventually Mab had gotten so tired of him that she’d put a curse on him to tell nothing but the truth.
That
had set the fellow packing! But that sort of interlude wasn’t like getting to know a mortal. Merlin would be—was—different.
Though Frik had
the bow, he saw that a great stone crag was rising out of the mists of the lake where there had been nothing but still waters
a moment before.
Merlin stared at it, marvelling at its sudden appearance. As the boat sailed closer, he could see a cave opening in the base
of the knoll, an opening that gaped as black and threatening as a dragon’s maw.
They were going to sail inside.
This was the first time it had occurred to Merlin that his journey might take him underground, and he was unprepared for the
sharp pang of pure panic that possessed him. He clutched at the side of the boat until his knuckles ached, and after a moment
he realized he was calculating the best way to jump into the lake and swim back to a shore he could no longer see.
Don’t be silly,
Merlin told himself chidingly.
The only things that are in a cave are bats and bears. The boat wouldn’t be sailing into it if it weren’t safe! And Mab is
waiting for you.
His apprehension faded as curiosity got the better of him. When he met Queen Mab, he would understand the other half of his
heritage, and that was something he longed to do.
The boat was close enough now to the cave for Merlin to feel the wind that blew from its mouth. It was colder than the surrounding
air, but instead of the lifeless scent Merlin associated with caves, this breeze smelled of something he could not put a name
to.
Magic?
The prow of the boat passed with slow majesty through the cave opening. Looking up, Merlin saw the rock seem to rise up and
crest over him like a breaking wave. A shudder of excitement passed through his body as he passed from light into shadow.
Now the roof of the cave was his sky, and when he looked back, his view of the enchanted lake was framed by rock.
The sound of the water slapping against the sides of his boat was loud now as it echoed from the walls, and the boat jostled
gently in the choppy water as it continued through the cave-turned-tunnel. A faint light seemed to radiate from everywhere,
so that he could still see what ought to have been dark, and it seemed to Merlin as if every sense he possessed was being
tantalized by some essence he could not yet sense. There was music he could not hear, sights he could not see, just out of
the reach of his mortal senses. He was beginning a great adventure.
This was magic.
Frik ran down the path to the boat landing, trying to run and dress and gather his thoughts all at once. The great day had
come, when the second stage of Mab’s plan would debut. Merlin was coming home to them.
Frik did hope the boy’s arrival would put Her Majesty into a better temper. She’d been very touchy since Julius Caesar had
invaded Britain, but the divine Julius hadn’t been one-tenth the trouble that Constant and his new religion had been. Once
the mortals had started pulling down her shrines instead of stuffing them full of Roman gods, she’d been quite impossible.
And of course, Vortigern simply made things worse. And he’d been all Mab’s idea.
Oh, well,
the gnome thought to himself,
least said, soonest mended.
At least having Merlin to teach would take Mab’s mind off of him for a while. Frik hadn’t at all liked living beneath the
constant threat of rockhood. What if Mab forgot about him and just left him to be a rock forever? It gave a chap the cold
wobblies just thinking about it.
And he did have to admit that he was interested in getting to know this Merlin. Of course, Her Highness was always bringing
home these seven-year stands, like that Thomas Whatsisname who’d wanted to be a poet. Remarkably bad verse, if Frik remembered,
and eventually Mab had gotten so tired of him that she’d put a curse on him to tell nothing but the truth.
That
had set the fellow packing! But that sort of interlude wasn’t like getting to know a mortal. Merlin would be—was—different.
Though Frik had
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