I woke with a ringing in my ears and dust in my mouth. I felt water pressing at the back of my head, and through that water I felt my sister – no, my nephew – my sister. I felt a hand on my cheek, a smooth, adult-sized hand. I opened my eyes. It was still black. Warm stones shifted above me, stinking of dust and steam and broken magic.
'Uncle,' said a voice close by me. 'Uncle?'
Galahad was no longer in my arms. I tried to stand up, but found that there were rocks only inches above my head.
'Wh-Wh-Wh-Where is he?' I said in panic. 'Where's G-Galahad?'
'I'm here, Uncle. It's me,' said the voice next to me.
'W-W-W-W-What? Wh-Where am I?'
I felt the watersnakes shatter as they complete their work on the back of my head and my scalded back. I coughed and spluttered. I reached out to touch the man beside me. He was fully grown, dressed only in a few rags. There was something round his neck: a smooth wooden cross.
'W-W-W-W-What?'
The stones shifted above our heads. I heard scrambling footsteps. Someone was clambering over the rubble above us.
'Help!' I shouted. 'G-G-Get us out!'
The feet scrambled away. I heard laughter, Arthur's gleeful laughter.
I was close to panic. I thrashed around the small space, dislodging stones and rocks. I felt two strong hands holding me still.
'Uncle,' said the voice. 'Uncle, stop. It's alright.'
'D-D-D-D-Don't call m-me that.' Tears overtook me. 'C-C-C-C-Christian!' I wept. 'Where are y-y-y-you, b-boy?'
'It's me. Breathe, Uncle Drift. Breathe. Calm yourself.' When the stranger had convinced himself that I wasn't going to bring the rest of the rocks down on us, he spoke again: 'Do you remember how Merlin rescued my mother and the others from the ruins of Castle Spar-Longius; what Garnish told my mother when she was pretending to be Norma?' he said. 'I mean, I know you do. I saw it in your mind. We've got to do the same thing. We'll make a bubble to throw the rocks off us, yes, and then scramble out as quickly as we can before any more come down.'
'H-H-H-How long h-have we been here?'
'A few minutes, I think. You took a nasty blow to the head.'
'B-B-B-But y-you're a child. Y-Y-Y-You can b-barely s-s-s-s-speak one w-word.'
'Uncle Drift, please stop.'
I closed my eyes and tried to calm my racing brain. I remembered the cavern falling, the tunnel collapsing around Galahad and me. I remembered – I remembered the tear that had flown from Neave's hand to her boy's lips.
The magical interference from the Cave of the Dragon had fallen away to nothing. There was no jaggedness in the ground beneath my hands. It felt as if Merlin's disturbance had melted away from beneath Britain. But in the young man beside me I felt my sister's water-magic, only not quite; it was tinged with something that felt like Christian.
'Are you ready now, Uncle?' said the boy.
'Y-Y-Y-Yes.'
'Take my hand.' I felt his long fingers curl around my palm.
'R-R-R-R-Right,' I said. 'Now.'
The quality of the air changed as a hard bubble of water formed around us. When we were surrounded, we pushed it outwards, and the stones above our heads began to shift. This was not the violent explosion Merlin had used to throw the red rocks of Spar-Longius into the air, but a slow shifting that pushed the debris away from us. Soon we could stand, and a moment later we saw daylight. The remaining steam from the Cave of the Dragon drifted towards the few fluffy clouds in the blue sky.
When there was a clear route we clambered over the rocks and allowed the bubble to pop. I looked at the dust-covered young man beside me. He was slender, naked except for his cross and the torn rags that had been his clothes when he was little more than two years old. I corrected that in my mind: he was still only two years old, he only appeared to be older.
'W-W-W-W-What do you know, G-Galahad?'
A single tear rolled from his eye. It washed a trench through the dust and grime on his cheek, revealing a teardrop mole by his left eye. The resemblance between the boy and his father was very strong. 'Everything,' he said. 'Everything my mother ever knew.'
I pulled my shirt off over my head and handed it to him. 'H-Here.'
He shrugged it on. It didn't fit him well, but thanks to the allowances it made for my back and shoulder it came down almost to his knees. 'Thanks, Uncle.'
I looked around. The cave had completely disappeared, leaving only a huge crater of steaming rubble that belched hot dust where the rocks continued to creak and settle. Small fires burned over the surface, and the rocks radiated heat from the friction of their collapse.
'That's it, isn't it?' I said. 'That's the end of n-n-new m-m-m-magic in the w-world. All the c-c-c-caves will be g-gone. The fiery mountain...'
He nodded. 'My mother believed that, yes.'
'I-I-I-I-I can't feel them. N-N-Neave or M-M-Merlin.'
Galahad shook his head. He sniffed. 'They're gone. They're both gone.'
A waft of breeze cleared the smoke and dust a moment, and I saw King Arthur. He was fifty feet into the crater, on his knees, searching through the rubble.
'S-S-S-S-Stay here.' I scrambled towards the king.
I could end it. Without Merlin to protect him I could take Excalibur from Arthur's side when he was distracted. And then I could kill him. I could avenge Margaret of the Marsh and all the other children he'd sent to their deaths. I could kill him for Epicene, for Queen Morgawse and Queen Melody. For all my friends who might be alive or dead at Tintagel. I could kill him for Palomides and Palomina, to free the brother from the great crimes done to him, and the sister from the pain I'd caused her. Even for my mother and my dead sisters. This would be the final battle: a poor thing between two cowards, on a ground of shifting rubble. That was all that Arthur deserved. I could save the world more torment.
It wasn't Mordred. It wasn't Galahad. It was me. I was the May-child Merlin had prophesied.
I heard Galahad's bare feet on the stones behind me. 'W-W-W-W-Wait there, G-Galahad.'
'I'm coming with you, Uncle.'
I could feel a magic ahead, buried in the stones.
'A-A-A-Arthur!'
'Ha!' exclaimed the king. He pulled at something in the stones. The rubble shifted.
I was feet away from him. I dived towards his sword belt. I grasped Excalibur's scabbard and tore at it. Although he was slender, Arthur did not so much as stumble under my weight.
'Uncle!' shouted Galahad behind me.
I felt an excruciating pain as something hit me in the back. A hot burning pain. I saw a great ball of light emerge from my chest. It had passed right through me, as if I was ghost. I collapsed at Arthur's feet. The magic that had passed through me entered his chest, but he didn't so much as flinch.
He turned, his face full of triumph.
'N-N-N-N-No,' I sobbed.
A hundred, a thousand magics swirled around us, all the magics Merlin had ever stolen save the few fragments he had lost. One-by-one they spiraled into Arthur's body, and each time he shuddered in pleasure. He had found the Spear of Longius in the rubble. He held it in his hand. All its power belonged to him.
'It came right through!' he screamed in horrible joy. 'What an arm your sister had! Oh! What Merlin felt! The world! This world! I see it anew! I am the King Eternal!'
As Arthur absorbed the power, I felt the magical world bend and flex. Arthur was acquiring all the weight Merlin had once carried. His black eyes transformed into the sorcerer's oily swirls.
And then all was still. Arthur stood above me. He pointed the spear down and made to stab me with it. I closed my eyes.
But then he laughed. 'No, no,' said the king, enjoying the little joke he had played on me. Though infinitely more powerful than he had been, he was the same infantile man. 'Stand up, Lord of the Lake.'
I did as he said, and stumbled back to Galahad's side. My nephew's eyes were on bubble of magic that was expanding around us, transforming the sky from blue to the crimson of lady Bertilak's second tapestry, the gift she had given me.
Arthur came towards us. 'My, you are a pretty one,' he said in a twisted, lascivious tone. He touched Galahad's grimy face. My nephew looked at him with disgust, but the king did not notice, or pretended not to. 'So pure, you are. You'll do.'
Arthur sighed contentedly. 'My friends, my friends,' he said, exhilarated by his new power. 'Is it not good to be alive? To be free?' He feinted towards me. I stumbled backwards, and he chuckled once more. 'Never fear, lord of the lake, you've done me good service. You showed me Merlin's true intentions. He was a good old man, in his way, but greedy.' He threw his arms wide, bathing in the light of the scarlet sun.
'How much better it is to be like this.' He skipped up the broken slope, changing foot with each word. 'king Spiritual. Temporal. Magical. Eternal. Universal.' He stopped at the rim of the crater, and, beaming, turned to us. 'One might ever go so far as to call me the king of Heav –' He paused, thinking about his words. 'Best not, eh?' He planted the spear on the ground and shook it between his fingers. 'Best not anger this one.' He giggled. 'A reward! A reward for your service, Drift of the lake.' He pointed the spear at me. 'With Merlin gone I do believe I need a squire. What do you say?'
I stared at him. The thought of serving him disgusted and frightened me, but I remembered Mordred's look as king Mark's men forced us through the gates of Tintagel. 'Aye, m-m-m-m-m-my king,' I mumbled.
'Eh?' He cupped his ear like a bad actor.
'Aye, my king!' I shouted in despair.
'Good, good.' The spear turned to point at Galahad. 'And you, my lovely, of course you're coming with us.'
Arthur raised the spear and brought it sharply down to the ground. The whole world seemed to shake under the impact.
And in the blink of an eye we were somewhere else.