and clung to him so fast that she gouged Merlin’s elbow with her armband. The wound throbbed as Merlin rolled off Owain’s legs.
Kifferow huffed but backed away as well.
“The Stone will help you understand,” Mônda said. “Look at it. Look at the Stone.” She reached out her hands and turned Owain’s gaze to the blue flames.
Merlin’s father shook her off. “Leave me alone, all of you.”
The gem in Mônda’s armband began to glow, and then his father’s began to gleam as if in reply. Mônda mumbled some strange words, and Owain’s head snapped up and turned toward the Stone.
Merlin pulled himself to a sitting position just as his father crawled toward the Druid Stone.
“That’ll teach him,” Kifferow said. “Now he won’t interrupt me!”
Desperate, Merlin grabbed his father’s foot to stop him, but the action barely impeded Owain’s progress as he dragged Merlin closer to the Stone.
“Tas. Tas! What are you doing? Kiff, help me!”
The big man stepped closer, but instead of helping, he snatched Merlin’s arms and dragged him away. “Be quiet and let him take a good long drink. He’ll never forget the sweetness.”
Merlin struggled, but the carpenter’s grip was too strong. “Let go,” he yelled, thinking of Natalenya’s warning.
Kifferow laughed, and his breath smelled like ale. “He’s smiling. Feel the Stone, Owain. Touch it!”
Owain reached out a wavering hand to touch the glowing surface of the Druid Stone.
“Merlin, it’s magnificent.”
CHAPTER 12
TOUCHING FIRE
No!” Merlin yelled as he kicked Kifferow and twisted out of the big man’s grasp. He flung himself forward and rammed his father in the side, knocking him away from the Stone.
Owain yelled and turned back with a ferocity that astonished Merlin. A fist hammered him in the gut.
Merlin fell back from his father’s blow, and his right hand landed on the Druid Stone and stuck fast, as if it were covered in soft pine tar. The Stone felt warm to the touch, its surface partly rough, partly smooth. And it quivered like a wolf ready to pounce.
Merlin’s body stiffened, and the ground tilted. He jerked his left hand up to prevent himself from falling over, and now both hands were stuck to the Stone.
The Stone grew larger and then melted away, his body seeming to plunge inside, as if the Stone had become a hole leading to a creature’s lair. He fell into silent darkness, it seemed, for hours.
Without warning he felt cold flagstones under his fingers. His groans echoed off walls that appeared from nowhere, and the dense air smothered him like frozen spiderwebs. Where had his father, the grass, and the Stone gone? He looked around, and his blurred sight sharpened. Once again he could see clearly.
He lay in a chamber made of solid granite, with neither window nor door. A bluish light flickered from torches held by intricately forged iron holders. Cold smoke poured from the torches, filling the lower half of the room. Merlin coughed.
In the center a square stone pillar rose from the smoke. The top was draped with a blue cloth decorated with dizzying spirals and symbols. From where Merlin knelt, he could tell that something rested on top.
He wanted to see what was on the pillar, but his legs ached and he couldn’t stand. The desire burned within, and in desperation he cried out, “Will anyone help me?”
A cold voice answered him: “Rise and see!”
Merlin’s numb legs obeyed and lifted him up to see four drinking horns placed at the corners of the pillar. Each was fashioned from the long curving horn of a ram, spiraling inward and downward and held by an iron stand shaped like the cruel talons of some giant creature.
The first horn was red as blood, the second bright golden, the third sickly white, and the fourth pale silver. Each was filled with a different liquid.
The bodiless Voice called out again, “Take and drink!”
Merlin leaned forward to peek inside the dark-red horn. It held what appeared to be the purest of water, so clear and fresh he could see down into the depths of the horn. As he stared, the water flickered with visions of vile, base, and godless things. The images kept changing, and Merlin desired to take up the horn and fill his body, soul, and spirit with the wicked degradations.
He called out to God for help, and a revulsion of sufficient strength finally rose up that forced his eyes shut. The images fell away into darkness. The desire left him.
He pulled himself away from the horn and opened his eyes to see