Chapter Thirty-three

"Yes, of course," I said. "And why would he be waiting for me?"

"Because you are very much a part of this, James."

"A part of what?"

Arthur looked up from the floor, rain hitting him full in the face. "Why, the search for the Holy Grail, old boy, and the ushering in of the New Age of Enlightenment for all mankind."

"I need a drink," I said.

Marion suddenly touched my forearm. "Guys," she said, "I think they're coming."

I looked out through the broken front entrance. A steady stream of torches were coming our way. I suddenly felt like Frankenstein's monster.

I wheeled around to Arthur. "Can't you stop them?"

"And how do you propose I stop them?" he asked, somewhat jovially, perhaps too jovially for my taste.

"With one of your miracles," I said. "You know, pray. Or something. Thank God for kicking their asses."

"I can't do that, James."

I stood, pissed off as hell all over again. Arthur unsheathed his sword. By unsheathed, I mean he took it out of his cargo shorts. Excalibur glowed softly in his hands. I could almost hear it humming, a sort of subsonic metallic ringing.

"And why not, dammit?"

Through the front entrance, I saw some of the men spread out, probably to surround the entire stone chapel and seal us in.

Arthur said, "Some things must happen, James, for growth to occur."

"And being attacked by a dozen or so armed crazies from Narnia is one of them?"

"Apparently so," said Arthur.

"You mean, you don't know?" I asked, suddenly realizing that I was, in all probability, about to die.

"Not necessarily," he said, and I looked over at him curiously and saw something disturbing in his green eyes: excitement. I realized then that Arthur wanted this to happen. That he was having fun. Arthur continued, "It means, I don't want to know just yet."

"I don't understand," I said.

"It's called living, James. You should try it some time."

I saw that all exits were now blocked, with men even standing outside the open windows.

"But can't you just turn us invisible or something?" Lord, what was I saying?

"Perhaps, my friend. But I won't. Some things must be played out. Some things must first happen before other, greater things, can follow. Life must be lived. Life must be experienced."

"Well, I don't want to experience having a sword run through my gut," I said.

Outside, the men had parted to allow a tall figure to pass between them. A tall figure dressed entirely in black.

"Then I suggest you choose not to," said Arthur, his eyes fastened on the man in black. "I suggest you thank God in advance for seeing you through this night, so that the three of us can journey on into the Underworld."

"Why the Underworld?"

"Because we must first pass through the Underworld, my friend, before we can continue on into the Land of Faery."

My head was swimming. I needed someone to slap me. Hard. "And what's in the Land of Faery?" I asked.

"The Holy Grail, of course."

"And why is it there?" I asked.

"For safekeeping," said Arthur.

"Yes, of course," I said. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You did," said Arthur, winking. "It was your idea a long time ago."

The figure dressed in black moved swiftly through the column of men, his dark robe swirling about his ankles. One of his men held out a torch for him, but he waved it off. Instead, he snapped his fingers once, and a ball of yellow fire rose up from his palm and drifted over the stone chapel, lighting his way as he approached.

I choose to live, I heard myself thinking desperately. I choose to make it out of this alive. I choose to continue on to the Underworld, whatever the heck that is. I choose to continue on to the Land of Faery, whatever the heck that is. I choose not to be impaled by a sword, or smashed by a blunt object, or caused any sort of major bodily harm. Okay, any sort of minor bodily harm, too - but, yeah, that might be asking for too much. Heck, there are twenty some odd guys surrounding us -

Focus, James.

Okay, okay.

Thank you, God, for getting us through the night alive. Thank you, God, for protecting us. Thank you, God, for leading us to the Holy Grail and back home again safely.

And thank you, God, for saving Marion.

The man in black stopped a few dozen feet away and pushed back his black hood, and I found myself staring at the very man I had seen in my dreams, the man trapped inside the cave.

Chapter Thirty-four

"I know you," I said.

He flicked an icy gaze at me. "As well you should," he said. His eyes slid off me and took in the ancient stone chapel, which was now lit rather nicely by his enchanted ball of light. Pointless now, I tossed aside my own torch. It landed in a puddle of rain water but still continued to burn. Godfire.

"You were in my dreams," I said.

"As you were in mine," he said easily.

"You were trapped in a cave," I said. "Screaming."

"I have screamed for a very long time, knight," said the man. He completed his survey of the broken church and returned his cold gaze to me. "Now I scream no more."

His eyes reminded me of shark eyes. Dead shark eyes. As he carefully approached me, his bare feet poked out from beneath his long black robe. At least, what I thought were his feet.

My God, are those -

Instead of toenails, long black claws curled over the stone floor, clicking as he went. Click, click.

My stomach turned, roiled.

To my surprise, he stopped in front of me, his dead eyes searching. Behind me, I sensed Arthur shifting. I also sensed Marion moving closer to Arthur. I'm not sure how I sensed this, but I did. More importantly, I sensed waves of darkness emanating from the man in front of me. Wave after repulsive wave. I had the very real sense that I was looking at a living corpse. He stared at me for a long moment, dark eyes hidden in shadow, skin stretched tight over his skull. Shaggy, bone-white hair hung limply over his forehead and down his neck.

He flicked his gaze over my shoulder. "He does not remember, Arthur."

"No, not yet," said Arthur. "Perhaps he never will."

Merlin said, "I assume he understands his role in opening the Way."

"Hey, I'm standing right here, you know," I said. "I can hear you two talking about me." And to Merlin I added, "And if you need me to open this Way, then why did you try to kill me earlier?"

"You are helpful, true," said the wizard easily. "But not necessary." He looked over my shoulder. "I sense his disbelief, Arthur."

"You could say that again," I said, deciding to impose myself. "A few days ago I was in Seattle, working on my latest novel, dating occasionally, wondering who was playing football this weekend, living a simple, easy life."

"What's he saying?" said the man in black.

"I have no idea," said Arthur behind me. "I think he's complaining."

"Complaining?" said the man in black, his mouth twisting into a bloodless smile. "Do you know who I am?" he asked.

"You are Merlin," I said. "I think."

"You think correctly."

"And you're going to say something to the effect of: What the hell do I have to complain about since you were the one trapped in a cave for the last fifteen hundred years."

His lips stretched again into a thin, wavering, humorless smile. He looked uncomfortable smiling. As if he'd forgotten how to do it. "Amusing," he said. "And, yes, I was trapped. Not quite fifteen hundred years, but for a very long time."

"Too long," said Arthur.

Merlin again flicked his gaze over my shoulder, and then strode past me, his claws clicking sickeningly on the stone floor. He stepped before Arthur, and I found myself studying his black robe, which seemed the blackest thing I had ever seen in my life. And as I gazed upon it...something astonishing happened.

It moved.

Well, sort of. A shadow passed just under the surface of the robe. Something black. Something blacker than black. Something eternally devoid of color and light.

I knew then it wasn't a shadow.

No, it was a soul, a very dark soul. Something twisted and evil and not very nice. And it wasn't just one soul. It was hundreds of souls, thousands perhaps, each flitting in and out of the robe as if the garment was their personal hell.

Maybe it was.

Now I could make out faces - contorted faces, hideous faces. They appeared briefly on the surface of the robe, churning and roiling, mouths open in silent screams, only to be replaced by other such screaming faces, each more horrific and distorted than the next.

Sweet Jesus.

"Yes," said Merlin to Arthur. "Too long. An inhuman punishment. An inhuman existence."

"There are consequences to all actions, my friend," said Arthur easily, although his words, I thought, were filled with deep love and compassion.

And in stark contrast to the darkness that surrounded Merlin, Arthur seemed to shine brighter than ever. Indeed, I could just make out a silver halo that surrounded him.

In that instant, I suddenly heard Arthur's voice in my head, clear as day, somehow whispered just behind my eardrum: I am shielding myself with God's love, James. You should try it.

Great, now you can use telepathy, too?

When necessary.

Except I had no idea how to shield myself with God's love, that is, until I had another very simple thought, a thought that might not have been my own. Thank God in advance.

And so I tried it: Thank you, God, for shielding me with Your Love and Light.

And the moment I thought those words, a dark shadow rose up from the floor near my feet and disappeared into the depths of Merlin's black robe.

I looked over at Arthur, and he winked at me.

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