destroy the Tree, and there won’t be anything left of Mordred. Then slay his stolen body to finish the job. Without him, the Shadow Knights will probably give up the idea of turning Earth into a radioactive cinder,” Spirit said.
Defeat Mordred, and there would be an end to the eternal rebirth.
She wondered if it would feel like dying.
“And even if they don’t, they’ll be leaderless,” Burke answered. “Ask Merlin if it’ll work.”
IF WE DESTROY THE GALLOWS OAK, AND THEN KILL MORDRED, WILL HE BE TRULY DESTROYED? Spirit typed. HIM, HIS MAGIC, EVERYTHING?
NOT ONLY HIS FELL AND STOLEN FLESH, BUT ALL HIS MAGIC, Merlin answered. ALL HE HAS SUMMONED AND CONJURED WILL PASS AWAY. YET THIS IS A PATH FILLED WITH DIFFICULTY AND PERIL, MY QUEEN.
Spirit always felt a little strange when Merlin addressed her by Guinevere’s royal title. It was as if Merlin thought of Spirit White as a convenient and temporary fiction, and Guinevere of Britain as her true self. And Spirit only wished things were that clear cut.
THEN THAT’S WHAT WE’LL DO, she answered. GO TO OAKHURST, DESTROY THE TREE, AND THEN DESTROY MORDRED.
Somehow.
THEN I GIVE YOU GOODNIGHT, MY LADY, Merlin responded. AND WISH YOU SWEET REST TO PREPARE YOU FOR BATTLE.
GOODNIGHT, MERLIN, Spirit answered, and began the elaborate process of shutting the machinery of the computer control console down.
“I’d feel a little better about things if he wished us luck,” Burke said.
“Merlin’s a magician,” Spirit answered absently. “He doesn’t believe in luck.” She sighed deeply. “I don’t think this is going to be as easy as I made it sound,” she added.
Burke chuckled. “Nothing ever is.”
* * *
It was just before sunrise in the first week of April, and Spring had finally come for real. The dawn woods were mist-shrouded when Addie let the black van ghost to a stop and the four of them climbed out. She’d taken a roundabout route, driving cross country, to hide the van in the trees. It would be a several mile walk to reach Oakhurst, but Spirit had wanted to see how matters stood in Radial, particularly the state of The Fortress. It probably won’t be that easy, but it would be nice to think it could be, Spirit thought.
They were all dressed identically in low sturdy boots, and pants and tunics in mottled woodland camouflage, and hooded cowls to cover their hair. The Cauldron Hallow was where their clothes had come from—an uneasy compromise between the modern day and their Reincarnate memories. In had gone the secondhand sweats, out had come these outfits.
“Follow me,” Loch whispered. He moved noiselessly through the trees, slowly enough for the others to follow. But as they reached the edge of the trees.…
“Uh.” Loch sounded disturbed. “This is bad.”
Spirit hurried forward to stand beside him. She saw what he’d seen. “Yes it is,” she said flatly.
The town was gone as if it had never been. The roads, the outlying houses—gone. The lake Addie had created during their escape from the Spring Fling was still here, currently covered in morning mist. A mile or so to the east of it stood The Fortress. Of all the buildings in what had once been Radial, only it was unchanged. Surrounding it now stood a Bronze Age village of huts. The people were already going about their daily tasks. It was somehow more horrible that they weren’t dressed in RenFaire outfits, but in the dirty and torn twenty-first-century work clothes of their former lives.
“Ohhhh.…” Spirit said softly, looking at them. “I can—”
“What?” Burke asked.
“I can see what he did to them,” Spirit said, amazed. “No wonder Mordred didn’t want to teach the School of Spirit. It’s where his Gift comes from.”
“A magician can never be fooled by a spell from their own School,” Burke said in satisfaction.
“So that’s why Mordred was so insistent on having the Macalister kids at the Spring Fling,” Loch said. “He must have
Defeat Mordred, and there would be an end to the eternal rebirth.
She wondered if it would feel like dying.
“And even if they don’t, they’ll be leaderless,” Burke answered. “Ask Merlin if it’ll work.”
IF WE DESTROY THE GALLOWS OAK, AND THEN KILL MORDRED, WILL HE BE TRULY DESTROYED? Spirit typed. HIM, HIS MAGIC, EVERYTHING?
NOT ONLY HIS FELL AND STOLEN FLESH, BUT ALL HIS MAGIC, Merlin answered. ALL HE HAS SUMMONED AND CONJURED WILL PASS AWAY. YET THIS IS A PATH FILLED WITH DIFFICULTY AND PERIL, MY QUEEN.
Spirit always felt a little strange when Merlin addressed her by Guinevere’s royal title. It was as if Merlin thought of Spirit White as a convenient and temporary fiction, and Guinevere of Britain as her true self. And Spirit only wished things were that clear cut.
THEN THAT’S WHAT WE’LL DO, she answered. GO TO OAKHURST, DESTROY THE TREE, AND THEN DESTROY MORDRED.
Somehow.
THEN I GIVE YOU GOODNIGHT, MY LADY, Merlin responded. AND WISH YOU SWEET REST TO PREPARE YOU FOR BATTLE.
GOODNIGHT, MERLIN, Spirit answered, and began the elaborate process of shutting the machinery of the computer control console down.
“I’d feel a little better about things if he wished us luck,” Burke said.
“Merlin’s a magician,” Spirit answered absently. “He doesn’t believe in luck.” She sighed deeply. “I don’t think this is going to be as easy as I made it sound,” she added.
Burke chuckled. “Nothing ever is.”
* * *
It was just before sunrise in the first week of April, and Spring had finally come for real. The dawn woods were mist-shrouded when Addie let the black van ghost to a stop and the four of them climbed out. She’d taken a roundabout route, driving cross country, to hide the van in the trees. It would be a several mile walk to reach Oakhurst, but Spirit had wanted to see how matters stood in Radial, particularly the state of The Fortress. It probably won’t be that easy, but it would be nice to think it could be, Spirit thought.
They were all dressed identically in low sturdy boots, and pants and tunics in mottled woodland camouflage, and hooded cowls to cover their hair. The Cauldron Hallow was where their clothes had come from—an uneasy compromise between the modern day and their Reincarnate memories. In had gone the secondhand sweats, out had come these outfits.
“Follow me,” Loch whispered. He moved noiselessly through the trees, slowly enough for the others to follow. But as they reached the edge of the trees.…
“Uh.” Loch sounded disturbed. “This is bad.”
Spirit hurried forward to stand beside him. She saw what he’d seen. “Yes it is,” she said flatly.
The town was gone as if it had never been. The roads, the outlying houses—gone. The lake Addie had created during their escape from the Spring Fling was still here, currently covered in morning mist. A mile or so to the east of it stood The Fortress. Of all the buildings in what had once been Radial, only it was unchanged. Surrounding it now stood a Bronze Age village of huts. The people were already going about their daily tasks. It was somehow more horrible that they weren’t dressed in RenFaire outfits, but in the dirty and torn twenty-first-century work clothes of their former lives.
“Ohhhh.…” Spirit said softly, looking at them. “I can—”
“What?” Burke asked.
“I can see what he did to them,” Spirit said, amazed. “No wonder Mordred didn’t want to teach the School of Spirit. It’s where his Gift comes from.”
“A magician can never be fooled by a spell from their own School,” Burke said in satisfaction.
“So that’s why Mordred was so insistent on having the Macalister kids at the Spring Fling,” Loch said. “He must have
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