Merlin's Nightmare (The Merlin Spiral) by Robert Treskillard Read Free Book Online Page A

that he might need from what Colvarth imparted to me.”
    “But is he ready ?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Natalenya wiped the tear away and gave a light smirk. “Did he show you his latest trick?”
    “Just before I came . . . He’s so reckless.”
    “I know.”

    Natalenya fell asleep that night with a hand draped down, resting on Tinga’s curly head where she slept on a woolen mat beside her parents’ bed — listening to the wonderfully soothing sound of Merlin’s gentle breathing beside her, and beyond him on the floor, Taliesin’s.
    She dreamt then, of Merlin and her in a boat on Lake Derwentlin while the summer sun shone down. As she reached out to him the dream shifted to her hand and his bound together with crimson ribbon. Colvarth stood before them, blessing their marriage in the name of Jesu Christus. The sweet, earthy smell of eglantine and musk roses filled the air, and Merlin smiled at her nervously, but with a light in his eyes that warmed her soul.
    And Arthur celebrated with them, only two winters old then, but standing proudly with his little cloak thrown over his shoulder.
    The images shifted. Darkness covered the world, and a child’s scream split the night air. Arthur!
    Natalenya ran from her bedroom and through the dark great room, where the sound of her feet echoed upward to be muffled by the thatch roof. The crying drew her forward, pulling desperately at the deepest part of her. She heard a clicking sound, as though some taloned beast scuffled through the crennig.
    She ran through the doorway of the stone wall to Arthur’s room and rounded the corner to face his bedside, her arms already held out to pick up the sobbing boy. But he wasn’t there.
    Behind her, she perceived a scraping noise, and more clicking. She spun. Her bare foot hit some moisture, and in the pale moonlight she saw a trail of liquid drops making a path to the window. The iron bars Merlin had fitted had been cut and bent down. She knelt and touched the moisture with her finger. It was dark.
    Blood. Arthur!
    She screamed, startling herself awake, her chest thump-thump-thumping.
    Merlin lay sleeping next to her, his handsome, scarred face barely visible in the darkness. She sat up and listened. The house was quiet. She reached down and felt Tinga’s warm cheek, and the little girl muttered in her sleep.
    Biting her lip, Natalenya studied the room carefully as her heartcalmed down. But nothing was there. It had just been a horrible dream. Arthur was eighteen now, and sleeping in the stables tonight before the muster. There was nothing to worry about, so she lay back down and rolled over, resting her hand on Merlin’s shoulder.
    She dozed briefly while the dry wind blew outside and rustled the thatch. She awoke again with a start. She had heard something. A deeper noise had tickled her ear. On the other side of the house. Shuffling. Maybe Arthur had come back to get something. But she distinctly remembered Merlin barring the door.
    She slipped from the bed, quietly stepping over Tinga. The stone floor felt cold to her feet, and her nightgown caressed her toes like ghostly fingers, sending shivers up her legs. Stepping into the great room, she listened, but there was nothing. Walking silently over to the shadowed door, she felt for the bar . . . and found it’d been slid to the side, out of place. The door creaked loosely in its frame.
    With trembling fingers, Natalenya pushed the bar into place. Listening again, she heard . . . a slight noise coming from Arthur’s bedroom. He must have come after all. Maybe Merlin knew he’d be back. She walked into his room.
    “Artorius . . . can I help — ”
    She froze. Someone stood next to Arthur’s bed wearing a dark cloak and hood. Arthur didn’t wear anything like that. But Merlin did. Had he and Arthur planned to leave early? Though that made little sense.
    She took another step forward. “Merlin, this is no time — ”
    The man turned, and she saw a thin fringe of tartan on