hiding to protect them, so I am alone during the dark, quiet hours.”
“I can’t imagine the torture,” the king said, pausing to lay a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, “but why do you bring it up now?”
“Because of what I must show you tonight. You see, Morgan’s food robs both life and soul. The meat and meal of devils chokes out life and empties the soul of its vitality. And now I’ve learned that my wife wanders in the so-called Dragons’ Rest, like one of the dragon spirits without a heaven for a true resting place . . . or a hell to reap the bad seed they have sown.”
The king peered from under his downturned brow. “Dragons’ Rest?”
Merlin sighed. “So much to tell you and so little time.” He stood slowly, bracing his back as he straightened, and strode toward the corner of the chamber. “Come with me on a short journey. It has been one lunar month since the transformation of the dragons, and the time has come to begin the next step in my plan.”
He pushed on a panel at the back of the throne room, opening a door that blended perfectly with the surrounding wall. The two ducked under the low doorframe and stepped cautiously on a craggy stone floor. Only a tapered shaft of light from the chamber illuminated the room, revealing a narrow passage under a low ceiling. A musty odor filled the corridor, a reminder of abandonment melancholy, but not unpleasant.
After lifting an unlit torch from a metal wall bracket, Merlin closed the door, shutting out the light from the throne room. His voice echoed in the darkness. “Your Majesty. If you please.”
A glowing sword suddenly appeared, Excalibur shedding its royal glow, its hilt firmly grasped in the king’s hands. Merlin set the end of the torch against the blade and whispered, “Eshsha.” First as a tiny spark, then spreading across the torch’s fiber and fuel, a flame came to life.
The two tramped down a slippery stone slope for several hundred yards before leveling off and beginning a climb back to the surface. The ceiling and floor drew closer together until both king and prophet had to stoop to continue. By the time they finally reached a dead end, they crouched on their haunches.
Merlin handed the torch to the king. With both palms flat on the low ceiling, he pushed up on a wooden panel and placed it on the ground outside. Pressing his hands on each side of the opening, he lifted himself out of the tunnel and stretched.
The king followed, his sword still in hand. Merlin put the hatch back in place and covered it with dirt and leaves. “I tamped out the torch,” the king said. “We can use it again on our return.”
The full moon’s glow framed a dark forest, shedding light on phantasmic oaks that stretched out their branches as if to snatch up unwelcome wanderers. Merlin nodded toward a thin line of dirt that weaved a narrow path through the darkest part of the forest. He took a deep breath, his chest rattling slightly. “This way.”
As the two stole through the woods, Excalibur’s light leading the way, Merlin whispered, “Remember this path. It is the way to Blood Hollow, a place Devin likely doesn’t know. It is also a meeting place I have designated for one of the former dragons, one with whom I have recently gained a close bond.”
They waded across a knee-deep stream, then followed a deer path, descending once again through thick brush until they came out into a clearing, an elliptical, rocky space that resembled a miniature amphitheatre.
Merlin stood at the center, lifted his head, and whistled a nightingale’s call. He then stooped and signaled for Arthur to join him. “The stench of discord taints the wind,” Merlin said. “I believe Devin will soon launch a rebellion, and in order to quell the uprising, I will conduct my greatest, and my last, experiment.” He bent close to the king. “Valcor will be here momentarily. When he comes, you will learn a secret about dragons even the dragons themselves do not know.”
Bushes rustled. King Arthur rose to his feet, Excalibur at the ready. A man emerged from the darkness with his hands raised. “I am Valcor, unarmed and at His Majesty’s service.” He bowed low.
The king returned the sword to its sheath and touched the man’s head. “Arise, Valcor. I have not forgotten you so soon. You seem more fit than ever.”