The Lord of Obsidian [Quest for Earthlight Trilogy Book 2] Page 3

As her soft hand was about to touch him, Peter involuntarily stepped back. The emotions whirling inside him were oddly ambivalent. While his eyes couldn't get enough of her beauty, and he felt an unaccountable urge to worship at her feet, his flesh recoiled from her touch. This made him feel ashamed and remorseful and he wanted to apologize for being so uncouth to so charming a goddess.

  However, the “charming goddess” merely tinkled with laughter at his retreat. Peter sensed she knew how he felt and the thought made him go hot and cold all over with inexplicable shame.

  "I don't bite,” she said, pouting. “What on earth has he been telling you about me? I'm nowhere near as bad as he makes out."

  "Leave the boy alone! I would rather have left him behind than bring him to a place like this, but unfortunately he's involved with the Earthlight."

  Morgause's green eyes glittered. “Oh! So I guessed right. You've come about that wretched black ball.” She gave a small, dismissive shrug.

  "The Obsidian Orb."

  Morgause gave another, studiedly indifferent shrug. “I believe that's what you called it."

  "You know that's what it's called. You handled it. You tried to use it."

  Morgause looked at him with intense satisfaction. “I destroyed it."

  "No you didn't. It self-destructed."

  She eyed him maliciously. “Well, my spell of destruction might not have done the actual deed but I do know it ensured the thing couldn't be repaired."

  "Quite. And what else did you do to it?"

  She returned his glare with a chilly, composed gaze. “What else could I do? It was in pieces."

  "But you did something—there was something else in your spell."

  Morgause's gaze remained cool and impersonal. “What if there was?"

  Merlin's mind bored into hers, searching, probing. He received nothing more than an impression of her hatred and fear of him before Morgause, every bit as adept as himself at this type of spell, threw up a wall of resistance. As he in his turn threw one around his own mind, her eyes dared him to try breaching the wall. But Merlin realised he would be wasting his time. He could also be endangering Peter, if not himself. How else could he get the information he wanted from her? he asked himself. She was surely the wiliest witch he had ever come across. As he thought that, Merlin mused how she would be extremely self-satisfied to know that the greatest sorcerer in the history of sorcery had such an opinion of her.

  Morgause repeated her question. “Well, what if there was, Merlin the Enchanter—the sorcerer, the so-called seer? You're supposed to be good at predicting things for others—especially kings—so why can't you do the same for yourself? Whatever trouble you're in because of what I did to the Obsidian Orb, how come you couldn't foresee it?"

  Merlin pounced. “So you did do something!"

  She tossed her head. “I don't admit anything. What could I have done, anyway? The wretched thing was made for the Earthlight. It was safeguarded against responding to anyone not of the blasted Earthlight."

  Her eyes dared him to contradict her.

  "So far as I know it was. But it isn't always possible to foresee and plan for everything."

  "Oh, so even Merlin the Enchanter, the Great One of the Earthlight, is fallible."

  Merlin's reply was quiet but icily cold. “You've not learned so much that I couldn't freeze you where you stand, search your apartment and interrogate your servants. Believe me, they'd talk if they knew you couldn't hear a word they said."

  The truth of this brought no immediate verbal response. Morgause merely threw Merlin a glance of hatred so intense it would have sent anyone else into a gibbering fit of terror. Then—as a sudden thought seemed to strike her—she smiled. This time the smile was far from ingratiating. It was as though a man-eating wild cat looked out of those beautiful green eyes.

  "Oh, no doubt most of them would. But I'm not such an idiot as to involve people like that in my enchantments. The only one of my servants who might know anything about what I do is totally trustworthy, completely outside your influence. Would you like to meet him?” Before Merlin could reply she called over her shoulder, “Jadus, my love, are you awake?” She pronounced the name as Zyahdus. “Someone would like to meet you. Can you come out?"

  "Just a minute.” The drowsy voice was muffled by the closed door.

  Morgause turned back to Merlin. Triumph shone in her eyes as they waited for the servant who was obviously her lover to make his appearance.

  Seconds later the door through which she herself had entered opened. A man stood there. He was only partly seen as he adjusted his clothes and smoothed down his hair. Then he opened the door fully and stepped out. He looked at the two visitors sleepily....

  ...and Merlin and Peter stared into the black eyes of Sujad Cariotis.

  Chapter 3

  The Witch's Favorite

  "SUJAD THE Traitor!” Peter gasped. Merlin had enough presence of mind to remain quiet.

  The handsome face of the newcomer instantly exchanged its sleepy expression for a scowl. The black eyes snapped.

  "Who dares call me traitor? And I'm not Sujad. You heard her use my name. It's Jadus—Jadus Castirio.” He turned his scowl from Peter to Merlin. “You might teach your boy better manners, wizard. If he wasn't a mere stripling I'd challenge him to a fight to the death for that insult, and if you were younger I'd make you stand in for him. But I don't fight old men."

  "Jadus Castirio—Sujad Cariotis—Judas Iscariot. It's all the same,” Merlin snapped, needled in spite of himself.

  Jadus turned an assumed puzzled frown on Morgause.

  "Who are these people that you allow them to insult me in your home?” His scowl deepened at the amused smile that flitted across the face of this woman for whom he would do almost anything—this woman who would soon be demanding his very soul of him without even asking permission.

  "It's all right, my love.” She caressed the creases from his brow, at which Jadus pulled away in embarrassment and scowled even more petulantly. “This is Merlin the Enchanter, of whom I once told you. The other is his apprentice. The boy's likeness to Prince Arthur is no more than a piece of puerile and senseless trickery on Merlin's part."

  "What do they want?"

  "Nothing that we can help them with,” Morgause replied silkily, ignoring the rudeness of his tone. “They were inquiring about that shiny black ball that you found and brought to me—you remember?"

  They exchanged glances and smiles full of hidden meaning.

  "Oh, yes. You smashed it when we discovered it was an evil thing made for the Earthlight. We had some fun with it first, though.” Jadus gave an oily smile and rubbed his hands together with glee. The gesture looked vaguely familiar to Peter. Then he remembered it was a habit with Sujad Cariotis when feeling pleased with himself.

  Morgause gave a self-satisfied smirk and turned back to Merlin and Peter. The smile widened as she turned to playing the part of someone greeting the people who were dearest in the world to her. “I'm so dreadfully sorry we can't help you, Merlin—and especially sorry to disappoint this charming young boy you've brought with you. You wouldn't consider leaving him by any chance would you?” she asked Merlin with mock pleading. “There's power behind that not very clever-looking face if someone would but mold it and steer it in the right direction. I could create in him a sorcerer such as the world has never seen."

  She smiled beguilingly at Peter, showing the perfection of her white teeth. Peter caught the gleam of greed in the green eyes before she lowered her lashes. When she raised her lids again the gleam was gone. “What say you, boy? Would you like to be a great sorcerer—greater, even, than Merlin the Enchanter?” Her voice took on a yearning quality that reached out to Peter and all but ensnared him. Against his will he met the full stare of those alluring green eyes. “You could save the world from the corruption that eats into it. You could do it single-handed.” Her creamy-white hands reached out to engulf his. And Peter felt a strong desire to touch this paragon of beauty i
ncarnate. This magnificent goddess was surely no witch, something in him reasoned. But the moment her hand touched his he jerked his own away. She laughed as though humoring an ill-mannered child.

  With a swirl of her skirts she turned to give the sorcerer a brief glare. Her voice hardened. “Regrettably, Merlin is selfish with his powers. He once refused to hand them on to me and I could have been of great help to him. I have more knowledge of sorcery than anyone in all of history, though others have more command over it than I. I can teach you a lot more practical sorcery than I myself can accomplish—than Merlin himself can accomplish. What you ultimately do with your powers would be beyond my command, remember. No one else can dictate how you use them and you would certainly have more success than Merlin has had so far. You would be free of his rule. How say you, Simon Peter, son of Arthur?"

  Shock prickled down Peter's spine at Morgause's use of the meaning of his surname. Morgause, however, had turned her eyes back to Merlin to see what effect her words were having on him. At the expression of searing hatred on Merlin's face she burst into ripples of laughter. Drawing Jadus close to her side, she touched Peter's cheek with her soft fingertips, and he stepped back, but too late. The strangely pleasant tingling sensation of her touch remained with him even after the alluring vision of her presence had gone.

  "Well, how say you, young one? There's no need to recoil from me; I won't harm you. I'm completely loyal to my friends and I reward them well. Jadus will possess great power in return for what he is going to do for me."

  Merlin made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. He grabbed Peter's hand and brandished his staff in the air with a loud cry that was unintelligible to everyone but Morgause. The fingertips of the hand with which Morgause had touched Peter's cheek brushed deliberately and slowly against Merlin's cloak and her beautiful cat's eyes stared into the angry dark ones of the sorcerer.

  Her gloating glance was the last thing Peter saw as the room spun around the patch of green that centered on Morgause and her lover. Just before Peter felt his feet contact the earth again, he heard Morgause's laughter resounding around him. But it was no longer musical. Its mockery and vicious triumph hit Peter's ears like a death-knell. He put his hands over his ears to block it out. As his feet hit the earth with more of a jolt than he was prepared for, the laughter vanished and he was looking at Bartholomew Brown, standing in the copse stroking the noses of his horses.

  Bart turned to them eagerly. “Are you all right?” he asked with concern—for the suddenness of their arrival had caused Merlin to stumble. “Did you see the witch?” he added as Merlin regained his balance and strove to recover his dignity.

  "Yes,” Peter said breathlessly. “She's—she's beautiful!"

  "She's repulsive,” Merlin said evenly, tonelessly.

  Peter looked at him in surprise. Merlin's face was as expressionless as his voice. Suddenly a bubble seemed to burst in Peter's chest and the situation appeared incongruously funny to him. He started laughing fit to split his sides. Even Bart wore a wide grin.

  But Merlin silenced them fiercely. “Shush! We must get out of here as quickly as possible."

  "Why can't you perform the spell here?” Peter asked as the men mounted their horses and he swung himself onto the pony's back. “Why do we have to ride through the forest?"

  "It's too close to the witch's castle. She's wilier than a fox, that one—and much more dangerous.” Merlin turned to Peter. “You found her beautiful, Peter—and so do all men of her day. Can you imagine what she must look like to those who aren't, like you, used to the illusions of beauty created by Hollywood and the television studios—to a world where the miracles of modern make-up and special lighting are unknown?"

  "I've never seen a film star as beautiful as her,” Peter said, but the peculiar spell of the senses that she had cast over him was now waning.

  "Her beauty is no more real than what you see on your television screen every day. The only difference is that her magic is performed with sorcery rather than cosmetics."

  "I wish I'd been able to come with you,” Bart said with mock gloom. “I could do with a few goddesses or sorceresses to vary the routine of my life. I quite fancy myself as a knight in shining armor. What was she like? Give us a description."

  "If you must talk, keep your voices down,” Merlin hissed as Peter embarked as accurately as he could on a description of Morgause.

  Peter and Bart glanced at him in surprise, to find him looking over his shoulder and frowning. They had thought Merlin's outburst mere ill-temper but now realised he was tense and uneasy.

  "What is it? What's the matter?” Bart asked in a loud whisper.

  "It may be nothing.” Merlin reined in his horse and gestured to the others to do the same. “I thought I could hear hooves behind us. Unfortunately our own horses, in spite of the fallen leaves, are making so much noise it's hard to tell."

  They all listened breathlessly, but could hear only the distant cawing of the rooks and the thumping of their hearts.

  Then, impatiently, Merlin urged his horse into a smart canter. The others followed suit, stopping only when Merlin called to them—and they found themselves in the pine forest on Bart Brown's land. This time Peter experienced no dizziness or blurring of sight.

  "Well, did you get whatever you were after?” Bart demanded, only to find Merlin, now dressed in normal twentieth-century clothing, was waving him to silence.

  Again they strained their ears—and still they could hear nothing untoward.

  "There's no one following us,” Bart said with slight impatience. Then, as his stomach rumbled audibly, “Susan won't be home for lunch—she's lunching with the Country Women's Institute and they'll probably spend hours nattering over their meal—but there's plenty of food for the three of us if you'd like to join me. Susan doesn't believe in catering just for two. Even when we're alone she makes enough for several meals and freezes whatever's left over."

  "Thank you,” Merlin said with a sigh of anticipation. “It will be good to eat something I haven't had to cook myself."

  The thought of a nice hot casserole for lunch also had Peter's mouth watering. They all hurried their horses back to the stable, where Bart instructed Peter in the care of the pony. They left the animals with their heads dipped into their nosebags and hurried back to the farmhouse. There they were greeted ecstatically by Dreyfus, who wolfed down his small portion of casserole before going back to sleep at Peter's feet.

  * * * *

  BART LEANED back in his chair with a replete sigh.

  "I should be getting back to work. I'll have twice as much to do tomorrow, and the weather forecast isn't too good."

  "I need your help,” Merlin said, swallowing the last of his coffee. “Tom—like everybody else—is at work and you're the only one within normal traveling distance who can be taken away from his work without drawing attention to the fact.” Bart nodded and Merlin helped himself to more coffee. “The Enemy has found some way of getting into my home despite the strongest spells of forbidding and protection that exist—spells that have served me well for some fifteen hundred years."

  "He got in once before didn't he?"

  "Twice. The first time was late at night when Angela was on her own. The second—which Angela fortunately doesn't know of—was later that same night after she'd gone to sleep next door. I could almost smell the evil that had touched the things in my study. But the house was unprotected then as I was only beginning to waken to my true identity."

  Bart looked thoughtful. “It's possible that visit was his open sesame to your house. He could have created a spell allowing him to return whenever he wanted. It was the Evil One himself who came?” Bart gave Merlin a sharp look of enquiry.

  "From what Angela told me it must have been. It beats me how she managed to stand up to him the way she did. Her pluck was one of the reasons I married her. But the Evil One strikes even me full of terror, accustomed though I am to him."

  "I've yet to meet him,” Bart said dryly
. “What you told me of the green-eyed witch froze the very life-force in me. It's hard to believe so much evil and corruption can exist in one human being."

  "As Merlin said, she's repulsive,” Peter said with a chuckle.

  Merlin glared at him over the rim of his cup. “You'll find those words are much more than a joke. You won't laugh then."

  "Well at least I'm forewarned.” This time Peter spoke seriously. “Now that I've met her and know what to expect I'll be able to withstand her magnetic charm."

  Merlin gave him one dark glance—apparently not sure if he was being teased—then pushed his empty cup aside and stood up. His host followed suit, leading the way from the kitchen to the living room where there was a fire blazing in the big old-fashioned fireplace. Dreyfus drooped with disappointment again as he tried following but was stopped by a curt command from Merlin ordering him to the kitchen, where he closed the door on the puzzled dog.

  Bart set three armchairs around the hearth. Merlin motioned Peter into the center one and he and Bart sat on either side.

  Merlin then produced the Book of Obsidian—seemingly out of thin air—and gravely handed it to Peter. “Bart and I will now teach you everything you can learn from this book. Some things you have already learned—anyone reading the book could have learned them, for they mostly consist of facts. What you will learn now are—well, skills—skills that were intended for both you and me.” Merlin smiled faintly at Peter's astonishment. “Oh, yes, Peter, there was never meant to be just one Lord of Obsidian. I think you have the impression that I was supposed to be Lord of Obsidian and that Sujad the Traitor usurped the title from me. The Earthlight always considered the powers of Obsidian were too great to be held by one person. My days as master of the Obsidian Orb were during the time of the first orb and the first reconstruction. This—the second renewal—is your time."

  Peter looked at him in dismay. “But Sujad the Traitor owns the Obsidian Orb. The prophecy said—and it's in the Book of Obsidian—that a Lord of Obsidian called the Great shall come who will have powers surpassing even those of the wise."