Fantastical Ramblings Read Free

softly in the crystal’s prismatic light. Shorter and thicker than modern
weapons, the edge glinted with a keenness only Hephaestus could hone.
    “Yes. It belongs to me,” Herakles replied, assessing the
distance between himself and the shrouded figure. He automatically judged the
strength of the arm that still held the sword aloft and the skill of the hand
that clasped the grip.
    “I knew you’d come eventually. This is too powerful a weapon
to leave unguarded for long. Some men would sacrifice the lives of their entire
army to hold power like this in their hands.” The figure lifted his head. A
rather full and shaggy white beard poked out from beneath the cloak’s folds.
    “It must never fall into the hands of one who would
sacrifice so much for the sword and the power.”
    “Agreed.” The man moved around to the front of the altar. He
shifted the sword to rest horizontally across his hands, almost offering it in
peace.
    “Then I will dispose of it safely.” Herakles took another
step forward. The man appeared old, very slender. He couldn’t carry much muscle
on so spare a frame. “You can’t hope to protect it.”
    “I have my ways, though I find myself a little stiff and
sore traveling forward through time to meet you. Only a few months, but enough
to weary a body. You, I think have traveled further than I, a decade or two at
most. Tell me about the sword.”
    “I do not know you. Why should I trust you?” The old man had
come forward through time, as Herakles had done Such power shouldn’t belong to
an ordinary mortal.
    “Among my people, I am known as The Merlin.”
    Herakles halted in mid-step. “I know of you. Last of the
Druid, gifted with power and wisdom. This was once the cave and altar of your
people. But I thought you dead or a fanciful tale. Did your power draw me here?”
    “Possibly. The patterns of past and future create strange
coincidences. You left a wondrous sword here. I—no, Britain—needs such a sword.
You and the sword belonged together.”
    “You say the sword belonged with me?” Herakles found himself liking this old man. Not many mortals would
face a man of Herakles’ size and appearance, an immortal, without any trace of
fear.
    “Aye. Belonged . It
will belong to another soon enough. One who can use it to save Britain.” The
Merlin swung the unsheathed weapon testing its balance. It sang as it cleaved
air. The crystals picked up the hum and passed it around the cavern.
    “The sword is too dangerous for an ordinary mortal.”
    “The man who will inherit this sword will have to earn it. And
he will be no ordinary man. As you are no ordinary man, Herakles.”
    “How do you know my name?”
    “I learn many things. I know of your exploits, but I thought
you dead, or a fanciful tale.” The Merlin yanked a hair from his long beard. He
grimaced at the slight pain, then tested the edge of the sword by splitting the
hair.
    “In many ways I am dead. In other ways I can never die. I
cannot fully withdraw from life until humans are safe from the temptations of this
sword.”
    “Agreed. But I have plans for the sword and the future that
will fit your ideal.”
    “Such as?”
    “I have found a hero. A hero who will bring law, justice and
peace to Britain. He will need a sword such as this.”
    “Who is this mighty man, and why have I not heard of one
worthy of the sword and my trust?”
    “He hasn’t been born yet, in the time you came from. But he
will be. Shortly. I know that he will be worthy of the sword and your trust, as
well as mine.”
    “Even the gods of Olympus can’t see into the future.” If
only the old man’s words were true. He wanted to believe The Merlin.
    “The future is a shadow among many shadows. Those who know
how and where to look can catch glimpses of shapes and patterns. I saw a sword
in the patchwork of time. Look into the crystals. I will show you.”
    Herakles looked. The lights and shadows from the candle
shifted into symbolic shapes and