one dressed in cloth that shimmered like pearl. His hair lay bright as silvered frost, and his eyes smoldered like melted bronze.
The man opened his mouth, and his voice rang in Merlin’s head. “Servant who has suffered, the Lord greets you!”
Merlin tried to stand but fell back, dazed.
The man raised his hand, and a fountain of sweet-scented water flowed from his palm. “The Glorified One has ordained that a prophecy concerning your homeland would be fulfilled over ten weeks of years. For eight sevens, the power of dark fire has slept, clad in deathless cold, and for two sevens, it has grown under the mortal sky. This day it has awakened and is revealed in woe to the inhabitants of the earth.”
“W-who are you?” Merlin stammered.
“I am a servant of the Most High. Fear not, for His mighty hand has chosen you.”
Merlin felt his teeth begin to chatter. “I-I don’t understand.”
#x201C;FEAR NOT, MERLIN! The Lord has sent me to warn you. This day a man has come who has found and awakened Death and Hell. Beware him. BEWARE WHAT HE REVEALS. But fear not. Trust in God!”
The angel disappeared in a folding, collapsing cloud. And with him faded the vision.
Merlin’s eyesight blurred even as the flesh on his back screamed in pain again. He cried out. The pale form of the whipping post appeared once more, and he leaned upon it.
An hour later, after a painful journey back to his straw bed in the smithy, Merlin shifted onto his other side and tried to keep his food down. His face felt hot, and his back throbbed as if thousands of wasps continuously stung him. A few embers in the forge cast their light to the roof thatch, but everything else lay in shadow as the last light of the setting sun blinked and died through the shuttered window.
He remembered again the vision he had seen and wondered what it meant. He rubbed his hands to make sure the bloody soil was gone. Then his hands shot to his cheeks and eyelids, confirming the old scars still marred his features. Opening his eyes again, he saw the familiar smears marring his sight.
How had he been able to see clearly — even for that brief moment? The smell of fresh straw filled his senses. The smithy certainly wasn’t on fire, and therefore a dead man wearing a green robe wasn’t lying in their garden. He wondered if it had just been a strange dream.
His father banged open the double doors at the front of the smithy and brought a sloshing bucket in. He filled a ceramic jar and set it on a small table next to Merlin’s bed. “I’m glad we got you home.”
Merlin drank, but his throat still felt dry.
Sitting in a nearby chair, his father folded his arms and said nothing for a while. When he spoke, anger tinted his voice. “You’re going to take a long time to heal. How am I supposed to get my work done without you pumping the bellows? I’ll have to run back and forth.”
“Is that all you care about?”
“If I don’t fix the wagon —”
“Let Tregeagle flog the anvil next.”
His father pushed his stool back. “I told you not to do it.”
Merlin sat up, and the pain made him regret it. “You think I deserved nothing?”
“Seizing Garth’s bagpipe was unfair. Whipping you was worse.”
“So save the bagpipe but flog Garth?” His father was full of nonsense.
His father stood. “When I was young, my father gave me a bow and quiver. One day I practiced with a friend, and he shot one of my father’s hounds.”
“On purpose?” Merlin touched one of the stinging welts, amazed at how much it had swollen.
“I don’t know. But the dog died with the arrow lodged in its side.”
“Did your friend get in trouble?”
“Yes, but I did too,” his father said. “Both his bow and mine were taken from us, and I’ll never forget the injustice of that day.”
Merlin said nothing, waiting for his father to continue.
“Garth’s only token of his dead father is his bagpipe, and it’s cruel to take it away.” Merlin’s father raised his voice. “But you shouldn’t have been whipped. You never would’ve taken Tregeagle’s horses and —”
Merlin turned away and said in a soft voice, “You mean I’m not capable.”
“I did my best when the wolves came —”
“You saved me —”
“Not enough!” His father’s words were muffled by his hands as his voice broke. “You were so young …”