Part 8 (1/2)

”He will die if you do not do as I say,” said the giant.

Guinn gritted his teeth and, as if moving in a heavy fluid, turned and glanced down. Mordi was working over Garry, lifting him, dragging him. He could hear Garry's bubbling breath and weak coughs. Peering down, Guinn saw him prop the dying man in a sitting position at the cave-mouth, facing in.

”A lung job,” gasped Mordi. ”You'll go slowly, buster. Which is good. There's something I'll want you to watch.”

He went out into the clearing and picked up Lynn's limp form-both wrists in one hand, a twist under her so that she was draped over his right shoulder. He half carried, half dragged her into the cave. There was the sound of tearing cloth. ”We'll get this out of the way, hey, smarty?”

Garry tried to speak, but blood choked him.

Guinn whimpered in frustration as the invisible power drew at him, turned him around to face the great, calm, kindly face of the Druid.

”Your Quest,” said Merlin Ambrosius. ”There is nothing more important than your Quest. End your search and you shall have your heart's desire.”

The calm power flowed into him from that huge face. Suddenly, without effort, he understood. He understood it all, from all its beginnings to its incredible present to all possible endings. He put up his hands and closed his eyes.

There was a flow from the Druid to his whole being, and an answering flow up through the rocks from the core of the earth itself. There was an emanation from everything that lived around him-the trees, the gra.s.s, the silent goats that stared up at him as once oxen stared up at a Star. b.u.t.terflies sank to the earth and were still, and all the birds were with him, silently striving.

In his empty hands he felt a weight. He pulled his mind together and threw it all into a mighty effort; and his thumbs curled over something carven, and there was a high center of gravity there, so that he must balance what he held.

Then he knew it was done, and that out of himself and the earth and all things which had ever lived, the Search he had made all his life (most of it unwittingly) was over. He and his substance had been the a.s.sembly point for the thing which had left its mysterious mark on all histories and all myths.

He opened his eyes, and was not dazzled by its light, though it was far brighter than that of the high sun.

It was a chalice, apparently filled with wine. It was infinitely graceful, and each curve and carven line had a basic meaning.

There was a clinking and a rustle, and a weight on his shoulders, and a mighty, comforting burden around his waist. He found himself clad in golden chain-mail, marvelously made. It was covered by a long white silken surplice, and it blazed in the light of the unbelievable stone set in the cup.

”Will you yield it to me?” asked Merlin. His great dark eyes were full of years and hunger and...and supplication. There was no power in him to take this cup.

Guinn turned, looked down. Garry sagged against the rocks.

But Guinn was free now. He leaped. He had one brief glimpse of Merlin's pleading hands, and then he struck the ground jarringly.

”Mordred!” he cried in a great voice. ”Come out!”

The answer was a shot that roared from the open throat of the cave. Guinn saw, to his amazement, a .45 slug appear in midair three inches away from the cup he still held, and, flattening, fall to the ground.

Mordi had apparently fired before he looked, for he now came out of the cave. His clothes were disheveled and his dark face was flushed. ”Well, well. If it isn't the pure boy himself, all dressed up for Sunday. All right-give it here.”

From the corner of his eye, Guinn saw Morgan moving forward, like a stalking cat.

”Throw down that gun,” said Guinn.

Mordi laughed. He raised the gun and sighted it carefully at Guinn's forehead, and pulled the trigger.

The gun bucked in his hand.

He stared at it, unbelievingly. It was melting. It was falling together like a water-filled balloon with a fast leak. It flowed and dripped down and ran between his fingers. There was no heat. It simply melted.

He looked up, saw Morgan. She had a strange, luminous smile on her face, and was looking up at the peak of the rock. Mordi looked up too.

Merlin stood there, his arms folded. ”Would you kill the bearer of the Grail?”

Mordi cursed. He shook his fist at the giant and bellowed: ”I, Mordred pen Dragon, of the true line of the Kings of pen Dragon, Guardians of the Grail, I am your master, Merlin Ambrosius, and you are committed to my service. I command you to deliver it to me!”

Morgan gasped. Guinn, startled, looked at her. ”It's true, it's true,” she keened. Tears streamed down her face.

”Quickly,” she said. She ran to him. ”Give me the Grail. You can't kill while you hold it.” He hesitated only a fraction of a second, and then thrust it into her hands. Her face matched the Grail's radiance as she took it.

Mordi made a lunge for her, but she skipped back out of the way, and that was when Guinn's fist hit him. It bowled him right off his feet and up against the rock.

Guinn leaped on him. Mordi, with his back to the rock, lashed out with both feet and caught Guinn on his mailed chest. Guinn went flying backwards, to land in a tangle of surplice and chain, with his heavy two-handed sword twined into the heap. Mordi leaped on him, kicked at his head. Guinn ducked, and the heel of Mordi's shoe cut a long crease in his scalp. Guinn rolled over, got his feet under him and tossed the surplice back out of the way. He advanced on Mordi.

”Merlin, your protection!” screamed Mordi.

”To my sorrow,” said the giant, and his voice was like the theme of a dirge. He threw up his hands.

Guinn loosed a straight right that had all the power of his blood, bones and hatred behind it.

And it was as if there were a wall of plexigla.s.s between him and Mordi. The fist bounced off nothingness, and the diverted blow threw Guinn down on one knee. His arm tingled to the shoulder. He bobbed to his feet and circled, warily. He rushed, and was again warded off.

”Now this,” said Mordi, ”is real fun.” He dropped his hands. ”Come in again, brother b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Did I ever tell you how many guys tried to be your father?”

From the cave-mouth, Garry coughed, and from the sound of it, it would be about his last. Morgan, carrying the Grail, darted to him, pulled his head back, thrust the glowing chalice in front of his glazing eyes. Over her shoulder she cried, ”Your sword! Use your sword!”

The sword, to Guinn, was no more than a nuisance. He hadn't had time to look at the buckle nor to fumble with it, or he would have shucked it off to get it out of the way. But so far Morgan had been right. He backed off and drew the sword. Merlin and Morgan, having seen such things done before with skill, must have been appalled. Guinn had to run it out of the scabbard hand under hand down the blade before he could get it all the way out.

He got his hands on the long hilt, and the weapon seemed to take on a life of its own. Mordi staggered back a pace or two and raised his arms.

”Merlin-protect me!”

The glittering blade went up, back, and to one side, and came forward in a screaming arc.

”Protect me-”

”Against Excalibur? ” Excalibur? ” said the giant, his great voice shaking with laughter. And then the blade struck Mordi's neck and pa.s.sed through it as if it had been a puff of smoke. said the giant, his great voice shaking with laughter. And then the blade struck Mordi's neck and pa.s.sed through it as if it had been a puff of smoke.

The body stood upright for fully two seconds, a pulsing fountain of blood replacing the head. Then it fell. The head rolled over twice and stopped at Guinn's feet, the eyelids batting flirtatiously, the tongue running in and out like that of a rude little boy.

Merlin came down from the crest. Guinn did not see him do it. It was as if he had disappeared from the top and reappeared at the bottom. Perhaps that was the case.