Sword in the Stars (Once & Future #2) - Cori McCarthy Page 0,15

in the wake of the tiny explosion.

He hadn’t the heart to destroy it. When his life started in the crystal cave, it was the only thing he’d had to his name. The only piece left of whoever gave him up.

He doubled over, exhausted. “Too much magic,” he muttered, stumbling to the window just in time to see the dragon lift heavily on its wings, dripping blood in several places, and fly off toward the hills in the distance. Arthur grinned and lifted Ari’s arm in triumph as the crowd went mad. So much for Old Merlin’s plan to rid Camelot of Arthur’s favorite new knight, he thought smugly. If anything, this had cemented Lancelot’s place at Arthur’s side.

Ari looked more destroyed than triumphant. She was on her feet, though, and that would have to be enough for now. Some days were for saving the universe. Some days, still breathing was all one could hope for.

“Merlin!” the bird cried. “Merlin!”

“Archimedes, do you recognize me?” He flushed with delight. It couldn’t hurt if a bird knew his true identity, could it?

Archimedes screeched and extended a talon toward the stairs. Hollow footsteps sounded, and then dark-blue robes appeared, stitched with stars and moons.

“Oh,” he squeaked. “That Merlin.”

After all this time, he was facing himself. Pale skin riddled with wrinkles and liver spots. Deep, intent frown lines. Bright brown eyes. And over them, epically bushy eyebrows, overgrown and gray, which now thanks to Val had been tamed into two robust lines that had infinite character. Merlin knew that face from the inside—seeing it from this angle gave him a case of existential vertigo.

Did Old Merlin feel it, too? A deep sense of recognition? The old mage moved his jaw back and forth, as if chewing on week-old bread. Every moment spent waiting was a stone, weighing on Merlin’s nerves. “Please say something,” he found himself blurting.

“How did you get in my tower, you little carbuncle?” Old Merlin asked.

“Someone must have left the door ajar in all the dragon fuss,” he said, suddenly very happy that he wasn’t Ari and that lies did, in fact, become him. But his old self didn’t seem convinced. He took in the destroyed diorama, the look in his eyes a shade darker than curiosity.

A hum started so low that by the time Merlin heard it, sparks were already headed toward his face.

So, this was what it felt like to be knocked out by his own magic.

When he woke, a rope was thrust into his hands, and he was lowered through a hole in the ground. He looked up, but his evil old doppelmage was nowhere to be seen—only the receding face of a castle guard. Merlin hollered, but it was no use. He was in the bowels of the castle. No one would hear him.

The narrow circle of dirt opened up slightly, and he hit solid ground. The rope was tugged back up, leaving him in a small, smothering pit that made a dungeon seem like a four-star hotel. “Oubliette!” he cried, remembering the word the French had given it much later in history. “My gods, you’ve put me in an oubliette.”

“Hello, mage,” came a voice near his elbow.

He scrambled and lit his fingers with magic, revealing several things he wished he hadn’t. Sewage ran freely along one wall. Human bones were half-embedded in the dirt floor. Jordan was in her undergarments.

“You’re alive!” he cried. “Well, that’s something. I saw what you did in the courtyard. It was brave. And ridiculous. But mainly, brave.”

The compliment only seemed to intensify her anger. “When I learned Earth history on Lionel, I heard not one mention of real dragons. Such creatures were treated as storybook villains. How did I face one today?”

“Oh, I’ve got this,” he said, happy to have something to focus on besides the death-hole they’d been pushed into. “It’s hard to see the truth of history beyond what we’re taught. Whatever is passed down, we remember. When we first landed here, I had to remind myself that many existences—people and dragons and more—were revised right out of history by later scholars with rotten agendas.” She looked intensely horrified, and Merlin’s chest tightened in agreement. “People have used many hateful weapons over time. Forced forgetting is a powerful one.”

The meaning of the word oubliette rose in his head, unbidden. “From oublier,” he muttered. “To forget.” This wasn’t a place of punishment; it was a means of erasing enemies from existence.

“I devoted my life to a planet that sought to re-create