The Eternal Flame (31 page)

“Wait,” protested Tamwyn. “I thought Dagda forbade you from ever coming back to Avalon! The independence of each world, and all that.”

Merlin’s dark eyes sparkled. “True, all true. But we made a little pact, Dagda and I—since Avalon was in, shall we say,
unusual
peril. He agreed to allow me to come back, but only if I promised not to interfere. At least, no more than a little dabble here and there.”

Playfully, he toyed with the strands of his beard. “I am, after all, an incurable meddler.”

As swiftly as a mountain storm fills the sky, a look of sadness filled his face. “It has been hard, believe me, to interfere no more than that.” He gazed around them at the bodies—twisted, torn, and lifeless—that lay upon the muddy fields. “Very, very hard.”

He turned back to Tamwyn, and his expression brightened a bit. “Since I am now here, however, I am sure that Dagda would have no problem if I used my power to send you all to mortal Earth.”

Tamwyn beamed, as Elli squeezed his arm. Then he asked, “So you won’t be coming with us?”

“No,” the ancient wizard replied. “For one thing, I want to spend some time searching for human beings who didn’t come to Isenwy, to give them the same choice you gave everyone else—and to send them to Earth if they wish. For another thing, I have been wanting to explore a few of Avalon’s hidden realms, places that even you have never seen.” His mouth curled slightly. “And for another, my good sister would surely kill me if I didn’t stay for at least a while.” He winked at Rhia, who did her best to suppress a smile.

Tamwyn shifted his weight uneasily, twisting his feet in the mud. “I must tell you something before we go. Your staff, the powerful Ohnyalei. I—er, well . . . lost it.”

“Yes, of course,” the wizard answered brightly. To Tamwyn’s surprise, he didn’t seem at all perturbed. “These things happen.”

“No, you don’t understand. I dropped it during the battle with Rhita Gawr.”

Merlin reached out one hand and clasped Tamwyn’s shoulder. “I know, my good lad. Ohnyalei and I have spent so many centuries together that we have bonded closely—so closely that we have long been able to tell each other’s whereabouts.”

He trembled as he spoke, making the runes on his wide sleeve glitter. “That is why I knew you had dropped the staff. And that is also why I am certain that it fell into the partly open doorway of one particular star.”

Tamwyn caught his breath. “The Heart of Pegasus. The doorway to Earth!”

“That’s right, lad. It is there now, somewhere on Earth, waiting to be found. By you, perhaps—or by someone else, maybe a girl or boy of that world.”

He bent closer, so that stray hairs from his beard tickled Tamwyn’s chin. “Even if someone else finds the staff, however, they will need help in learning to master its powers. And who could possibly be a better guide than my grandson?” He savored each word as he added, “You are, after all, the true heir of Merlin.”

Tamwyn stood a little taller. He gazed at the elder in silence for some time. At last, very slowly, Merlin pulled away.

The wizard took a step backward. “Before you leave, though, I have a gift for you and your companions. A song of Avalon—the last, I fear, you shall ever hear, except in your dreams.”

With a dramatic sweep of his arm, he removed his hat. Just as had been true during his days as a bard, a small creature sat upon his head. Teardrop-shaped, with bluish skin flecked with gold, the creature shook itself, making its translucent robe ripple like water. Its expressive face revealed a wide range of emotions—triumph and tragedy, hope and longing, humor and sorrow.

The museo began to hum, a rolling sound whose undertones carried feelings more than sounds, ideas more than melodies. The layered hum expanded, vibrating the very bones of all who could hear. A few seconds later, Merlin reached into his robe and pulled out his little lute. And then, weaving his voice into the hum, he began to sing.

“
To Avalon now cry farewell,
Thy mem’ries only taking;
So many seasons did thee dwell
In wondrous realms forsaking.
Return one day! Thy dearest goal
Keep firm beyond all shaking.
For mist shall ever stir thy soul,
A distant music making.

Remember each the sacred realms
Though images glow dimmer—
And steer thy course with homeward helm
Ere time alive grows slimmer:
The Land of Bells shall chime thy loss,
As lofty summits shimmer;
El Urien, so green with moss,
Shall thrive as dreams still glimmer.

The Rainbow Seas of liquid light
With beauty shall entrance;
While flames atop Volcanoes bright
Shall forever prance;
The fertile Mud shall haunt thee most,
For that gives life a chance;
And Y Swylarna’s mist shall host
The maids’ eternal dance.

Then lovely dark shall welcome thee
In Shadows’ endless night.
The higher realms of Merlin’s Tree
Gain wonder with their height:
Their spiral falls and secret stairs
Shall climb beyond thy fright,
And stars on high shall ever shine
To guide thee with their light.

To Avalon now say farewell,
As fires of mem’ry burn;
So many seasons did thee dwell
Where wonders ever turn.
Though destined far away to roam,
Forever shall thee yearn
To find again thy heart’s true home:
To Avalon return.
”

As the song ended, Tamwyn, Elli, and everyone else stood in silence. In their minds, however, they continued to hear the museo’s hum. Just as they continued to hear the wizard’s final phrase:
To Avalon return.

Tamwyn ran his fingers along the leather strap of his pack, thinking of nothing but the song. Then he felt the tooth marks of the gray wolf, from the day he’d met Gwirion. How long ago that seemed! In that time, Gwirion had gained a new identity, as leader of the Starkeepers. Yet to Tamwyn, he would always be a fire angel—and, more importantly, a friend.

Curling his toes in the soft mud, Tamwyn thought of what else his pack contained. So many precious gifts; so many reminders of Avalon. In addition to Elli’s harp, whose music would itself be a gift, there was the scroll with his father’s last letter, written in the bold blue lettering of Krystallus. The special compass was there, too, pointing ever westward and starward. As was his leathereed flask, still holding some of the sweet water from the Great Hall of the Heartwood. And somewhere near the bottom of his pack was the ironwood vial that contained one last drop of Dagda’s dew, which could give magical vision over vast distances.

He nodded, deciding to save that final drop for the day he might journey back to this world.
Meanwhile,
he reminded himself,
you’ll just have to rely on the simple eyes of a wilderness guide.

He hefted the pack, which weighed surprisingly little given how many treasured items it held. Yet his most precious gifts from Avalon, he knew, did not reside in his pack.

Merlin donned his wizard’s hat, then raised his arms high. “Journey well, my friends! Though you must go without me, I shall be with you still.”

Tamwyn took Elli’s hand, squeezing tight, as the air started to shimmer. Suddenly his torch glowed brighter, as did her Galator. Light, green and blue, burst all around them, as if a star had exploded beneath their feet. The whole world fell silent—but for the echoing sound of an eagleman’s cry.

The dazzling light intensified, as radiant beams burst everywhere. Tamwyn sensed that he and his companions were being guided by magical flight all the way up the roots, trunk, and branches of the Great Tree of Avalon. But he could see none of that. All he could see, apart from the radiance, was the torch that he carried.

With every second, the torch’s flame grew brighter. It reminded him of another flame, one that would burn forever on high.