The strange, lava-lamp bubbles of psychic plasma that rose lazily from somewhere under the lake to burst silently on the surface were not at all familiar, although she had seen enough at Morton Downs to know their source had to be Taliesin the Merlin, and by their color and the spasmodic way they surfaced, they left Marieko with the distinct feeling the Merlin was not in good shape. Then, as if to confirm all her theories, the same glow appeared in the backseat of the Range Rover like a sympathetic vibration, soft at first, but growing in intensity. Columbine moaned, trying to speak. Marieko could do little to help her if she was to continue driving, but she made her voice as hypnotically comforting as she could.
“Try to hang in. We’ll be at the castle in a matter of minutes.”
Columbine’s words came out as a feeble and rasping croak. “I hate … to say this … my dear, but … I think I’m … being … slowly … destroyed.”
“It’s as though he can’t close the final contacts, like he can’t trip the last circuits … I don’t know how to describe it … he’s hit some obstacle that stops him from achieving full consciousness.”
The outer shell had now entirely fallen away, and the
humanoid figure under the thick membrane was attempting to move, but with a feeble and uncoordinated lack of success. Even as Renquist and Fenrior watched and discussed it, the figure they all assumed was the Urshu Taliesin raised an arm, attempting to push at the membrane, as if trying to puncture or penetrate it. After about thirty seconds, the limb dropped impotently back, clearly drained of strength by the exertion. Fenrior faced Renquist. “Are you still against cutting it free?”
Renquist’s experience at Morton Downs had left him convinced that to meddle with the Urshu was courting disaster, but he might well be placing too much reliance on the key to the Merlin’s successful resurrection being the link with Columbine. Maybe Fenrior was right and they should try the direct and obvious approach. Without some kind of outside intervention, it was starting to look very much like Taliesin would perish in the effort of freeing himself from the cocoon. “I’m damned if I know.”
“We have to do something. We could lose him.”
“Perhaps if we waited until Columbine arrives. If nothing happens then, tell your lads to cut that membrane and pull him out of there.”
Fenrior slowly nodded. “If nothing occurs when we bring her in, we get him out of that thing as fast as we can.”
“Agreed. One chance—then you get no further argument from me.”
Fenrior looked round at his Highlanders. “Do you all hear that? The moment I give the word, cut that thing free.”
A few of the Highlanders looked nervous, and they touched their swords for reassurance. All in the laboratory were dealing in their own way with something well beyond the limits of their understanding. Renquist looked round at the lights and meters and discharge tubes, all the science and alternative science that had been Fenrior’s contribution, and reflected on the irony
that, when the chips were down, the resort was to cold sharp steel to solve the problem.
Gallowglass suddenly reached for the black rotary phone. He listened for a moment and then nodded. “Aye. I’ll tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“Tha’ were Shaggy Lachlan, m’ lord. Th’ Dashwood lass is i’ th’ castle.”
Fenrior turned to Renquist. “Now we shall see.”
Columbine seemed to recover with an unbelievable rapidity the moment she set foot inside the castle. She and Fenrior might be neither friends nor allies, but she seemed to find strength from the walls that had protected so many undead for so long. Marieko was relieved at the recovery, but not merely out of concern for Columbine. Such a marked improvement after simply entering the confines of Fenrior did a lot to confirm Marieko’s theory that Columbine’s collapse, and even her increasingly erratic behavior over the past weeks, were inextricably linked with the waking of the Merlin. To be proved right did a lot to offset Marieko’s natural fear of entering the enclosed and ancient with little idea of what might happen next.
The Hummer and the Range Rover had roared through the village on the shore of the loch so fast, Marieko had no chance to observe Fenrior’s preserve of domesticated humans. Just an impression of buildings, and then over the causeway and onto the bridge. Rings of blue iridescence rose to welcome or perhaps scrutinize the Hummer as it approached the castle’s great main gates. The same thing happened to the Range Rover, and Marieko was both relieved and encouraged that she and Columbine were not immediately rejected by the fortress’s radiant, defensive magic. The tall iron reinforced gates swung wide to admit the Hummer and remained open until Marieko was also inside. She found herself in a large central courtyard with high granite walls rising on all
four sides. She brought the Range Rover to a stop beside the Hummer and wondered what her next move should be. A line of Highlanders was drawn up facing the two trucks, and Marieko thought she recognized two or three of those who had come to Ravenkeep with Gallowglass to kidnap Renquist. For a force so hard, wild, and unkempt, they maintained a fairly strict formation, suggesting they might be an honor guard instead of simply just a guard.
The ancient Highlander with the scarred and tattooed face dismounted from the Hummer, and Marieko wondered if she should do the same. Before she could make that decision, Columbine made it for her, opening the rear door, climbing swiftly out, and facing the rank of Highlanders with an air of impatient authority and a complete lack of any visible fear or trepidation. He voice was clear and strong in the night air, in total contrast to the enfeebled whisper of just minutes earlier. “I don’t know who’s in charge here, but I demand to be immediately taken to Taliesin the Merlin, or failing that, the Lord Fenrior himself.”
A Highlander somewhat shorter than the rest stepped forward from the line and advanced on Columbine. “I am Goneril o’ th’ Seven Stars, an’ delegated Captain o’ th’ Nightwatch. M’ orders are exactly tha’. You will be conducted straight t’ th’ Lord.”
Hearing her voice, Marieko realized the guard captain was female, and was somewhat gratified that Fenrior not only included females among his sword bearers, but had also elevated at least one to a position of command. Two taller Highlanders moved to flank Goneril. They carried burning torches that cast menacing shadows, but Columbine refused to be intimidated. “The Lord Fenrior should know me.”
“Indeed he does, Mistress Dashwood.”
“And my companion, Mistress Matsunaga?”
“She is also expected.”
Renquist and Fenrior both turned as the party of five entered the chamber. Goneril, boots ringing on flags and hand on the hilt of her claymore, led the way, with Columbine and Marieko behind her, and two Highlanders bringing up the rear. Columbine advanced, brisk and businesslike. “Fenrior, Renquist, I would not have forced myself into your—”
Then Columbine saw the Merlin, bathed in light, beneath the so far unyielding membrane, and the sight left her, both figuratively and literally, gasping for breath. For a moment she seemed to regather herself. “ … I would not …”
Again, though, her emotional footing was lost. “I …”
A flash of static fountained up from the Merlin, as if, as far as Columbine was concerned, their eyes had met across the legendary crowded room. For her, a love of the strangest kind filled the chamber of technology with a roseate psychic flush, and the illusion spilled over to all who were present. Sparkling plasma particles performed a drifting waltz before being drawn either to the Tesla coil or the orgone accumulator. Fluttering, birdlike hallucinations wing-whispered in the arches of the chamber roof. Lilting combinations of harps and flutes were indistinct but audible, until a second eruption of energy rose from the Merlin. Instead of drifting aimlessly, this one circled Columbine with a deliberate sense of purpose. As Renquist noticed this new control of the energy flow, the hallucinations vanished and the musical sounds ceased, as though whatever synergy was present had tightened its focus so the flow was strictly between Columbine and Taliesin.
She swayed for a second as though about to fall, but Marieko moved quickly forward and placed a steadying hand on her arm. The touch instantly brought her back from wherever she had been, but during her absence, an unmistakable change had taken place. She snarled at Marieko. “Get your Jap hands off me!”
Her eyes had turned piggy. She was greedy, and she
wanted it. She wanted it worse than any want she had experienced, even if she had no clear idea of what it might be. Somehow the Merlin had infused her with an overpowering, and, Renquist guessed, a very unhealthy desire. She moved toward the membrane that shrouded the Urshu with both the longing and hesitation of a virgin bride. If Renquist hadn’t seen it, he would not have believed it. She stretched out her arms as though to her long-awaited lover. Renquist quickly shouted a warning, reinforcing it with a strong mental command. “Wait, don’t touch it!”
Columbine halted and turned. She was angry. “Don’t use the voice on me, Victor.”
“You must not touch that thing.”
“It’s not a thing, Victor. It’s Taliesin. And why shouldn’t I touch him? Soon he and I will be one.”
“You know nothing about it.”
Columbine’s aura was drifting and indistinct. Her eyes had become peculiar—unfocused and distant. “Oh, yes, Victor, I know, I know. Soon I will be the consort of the Merlin, and you will no longer be needed.”
Fenrior took a step back, deferring to Renquist. “I think I’ll leave this one to you.”
Marieko was also staring at Columbine, amazed and disturbed that, at such a momentous instant, she could take time out to play Victor against Merlin. Her mind had to be crumbling. Meanwhile Columbine glared vindictively at Renquist. He knew she could be both vicious and infantile, and at times unstable, but contact with the Urshu appeared to have sparked a dangerous and overwhelming insanity. “That’s why you don’t want me to touch him, isn’t it, Victor?”
“Try and detach from this, Columbine. You’re putting yourself at great risk.”
Columbine merely laughed. “Does it bother you that the Merlin is now the object of my attention? Or that he should chose me as a mate and partner, Victor?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Patently so. The Merlin is not even one of us, Columbine. You can’t be his consort because you and he are not of the same species.” He glanced at Fenrior. “We have to stop her.”
Fenrior’s expression was bleak behind his dark glasses. “Do we, Victor? She’s gone this far, let her take it to the conclusion. You’ve warned her. That’s all that can be expected of you.”
Columbine laughed. It was definitely the laughter of madness. “You don’t want me to touch him because now he has the hold on me and you don’t.”
And at that point, Renquist gave up. Fenrior was right. They had come that far. Let her take it to the conclusion. “I never had a hold on you. I wasn’t even interested in you. Go ahead, Columbine, embrace your Merlin.”
Columbine took one more step and it was as though a trap had been sprung. No fireworks and no radiance. Columbine’s very being was simply drawn into the Merlin. At first it was as though all pigmentation had been leeched out of her body. Her clothing retained its color, but her flesh turned to a greyshade monochrome. Second to go was all trace of moisture. Her body took on the dry and fragile rigidity of a plaster statue. Finally what was left of the physical form of Columbine Dashwood gave up its structural integrity. It was no longer able to support itself. The weight of her ring snapped a dead finger—the ring with the large single ruby in the elaborate art nouveau claw setting. It hit the stone floor, bounced twice, and then rattled to silence. The fabric of her dress pulled down on her shoulders. Collar bones snapped like petrified twigs. Skin cracked and powdered. An arm fell loose. Her head sagged forward, her neck fragmented, and the head rolled and fell, striking the flagstones with a thud of soft horror, and a final disintegration left nothing but dust and ringleted hair. The large bones in her legs were the last to go, but then they, too, gave way, and her dress and underthings deflated to
the floor, leaving nothing but grey powder and discarded clothes.
Marieko let out a short gasp of a kind that required immense control not to be a full-blown scream. Goneril’s eyes widened in a way that suggested her mind was completely out of its depth. The other Highlanders demonstrated the same reaction as jaw muscles tensed and knuckles whitened on the hilts of their swords. The experience had temporarily paralyzed everyone in the chamber, and although it may have been an illusion, even the grind and crackle of the electronic and mechanical hardware seemed to drop to little more than a soft hum. When he finally broke the silence, Victor managed, with a great effort, to sound almost detached. “I didn’t expect it to destroy her.”
Fenrior was in immediate agreement. “None of us did.”
But Marieko knew, from the way they avoided looking at each other, Renquist and Fenrior had suspected and maybe discussed the possibility of Columbine’s destruction, if only as a worst-case scenario. Otherwise what had that final exchange been all about letting her take it to the conclusion? “You’re a pair of elevated immortal hypocrites. You knew what might happen. She was one of my troika, damn you both!”
Before either could answer, Morbius created a much needed distraction by darting forward to collect a sample of the powder that had once been Columbine Dashwood. Fenrior cuffed him hard across the side of the head with his clenched fist. “Be still, you creature!”