* * *
“I guess I’m not so smart after all,” muttered a chastened Ayesha, after the old man had crossed the road to where she stood and poked a finger at the statue-like would-be assassin.
Martin, as Tony had before him, dissolved to dust.
“Simulacrum?” she suggested.
“Of course. One sent by the Dark Lords to kill and the other working with Mister Mo to protect.”
Ayesha glanced at her still immobile bodyguard. She had certainly underestimated him. Figures she could see beyond Mo were also still and unmoving. If this old man had cast the spell, he had to be a Master Wizard.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I have been known by many names, but the one you are probably most familiar with is Merlin.”
“Merlin! Then the stories linking Caerleon with Arthurian legend are true?”
The old man laughed. “Arthur was a good and clever man. Together we created any number of Camelots, hoping that his brand of goodness and honour would take root and grow. If we failed, the fault is with the world, not him.”
Ayesha looked closely at the old man. This was Merlin, said to be the greatest wizard in history and legend. Why would he be helping a girl not far removed from novice status? Someone with a lot of growing still to do?
“Why did I help you?” he said, surprising the girl by even knowing her thoughts.
“Not just help, you saved my life, and for that I thank you sincerely.”
“My blood flows in your veins, Ayesha,” said Merlin. “You are the progeny of my Welsh self. Your friend, Aimi Underwood, is descended from my Cornish alternative, making you cousins though many times removed. Her particular talents are slower to develop than yours, but eventually you will become a team to be reckoned with.”
“Then our meeting was not down to mere chance?” interrupted Ayesha.
“No, child, your destinies have always been interlinked. But enough of histories and futures; the present concerns us now. Though Mister Oblique meant well, and his reasoning was not without merit, hiding you without powers was nevertheless a mistake.”
He snapped his fingers.
“There, your white streak is restored, along with your magical qualities. The ability of the Old Monmouthshire Territories to nullify your powers has been removed.”
Ayesha looked into Merlin’s eyes, trying to see the inner being within the tramp-like disguise, but they sparkled like diamonds and would not let her penetrate the outer shell.
“It’s hard to believe that both Aimi and I are of your line. But even accepting that, my powers are often erratic and not fully formed. Why have I been targeted?”
“For your potential, child. Easier to kill you now, before you achieve possible greatness. You must always be on your guard, but for the moment the threats will recede. The Dark Lords will retreat to consider the implications of my personal intervention, but they will always oppose you.”
“I find this hard to take in, you know what I mean? Well, yes, of course you do. You know everything! I don’t really know what to think, what to say…”
Merlin smiled. “Say nothing, Ayesha. Return to London and continue your development. I watch the progress of all my descendants with interest and with hope.” And as he faded from sight, so the freezing spell was lifted.
“Are you alright?” asked Mister Mo, finally arriving at her side, unaware that his running had been in any way interrupted.
“I’m fine, thanks,” she replied thoughtfully. “No, I’m more than fine; I’m fucking ecstatic!”