Now the monster’s head swayed a little left, right, left, right and there was no more interest in Merlin but full attention for the whirl of the wand. Having so caught and held the thing, he probed what mind it might have: alien and deadly but not intelligent, thus open to his own attack.
As Merlin might build an hallucination for a man, he strove now to set the creature under his rule, and that Proved easier than he had hoped. Though he began to lessen the swing of the wand, the monster did not move. Its head still swung and its eyes were dulled as if, in a measure, it were now blind.
Merlin took a chance and stilled the wand, waiting, poised to begin again should the lake thing move. But it did not. He sent a last command winging to its strange brain. The coils on which the head was reared began to slip down beneath the waters and at last ripples closed over it.
He had thought of approaching the island by swimming, lest any scouting of that broken causeway bring attention from the tower. Now he knew better than to try. He did not even have any idea of how long the serpent thing could be held in mind-bondage. So he strode as swiftly as he could along the shore toward the end of the causeway, not neglecting as he went to keep an alert watch on both land and water, as well as leaving his mind open to any emanation from other guards.
At the shore end of the causeway he paused, looking across that middle break to the island. The glare from the water was unusually dazzling—perhaps some safeguard had been triggered by his presence here and was striving with all its might to bewilder and bemuse the invader.
Under his feet was a trace of ancient way. A well-used road had once run to this spot. But his wonder grew as he looked at the tower. For all the kinship of the stonework to the megaliths of the Place of the Sun, this had not been any stronghold of those he knew—or sensed—in the latter place. It was almost as if this dark squatting building had been summoned into this world from another, like the scaled thing of the lake. Even looking at the heavy lines of its walls disturbed Merlin.
Could it be a distort of some kind which reached him so? Merlin did not know, but he had no wish to invade either island or tower. However, wishes did not rule him.
He began to whirl the wand once more, holding it out at nearly arms-length from his body. If his defense was working as he hoped, no watcher in the tower could see him clearly behind that flashing rod. His mind-probe picked up nothing ahead. There was only a blankness, which in itself was wrong.
Now he had reached the edge of the break and saw that there were scars on the old stones. Merlin thought this proved his guess was right: there was some way of bridging this gap which could be laid down and taken up again. But he could not allow himself to be defeated by a length of open water.
Looking down, he could see fallen stones, green with water slime. Some did break the surface, though their tops were wet and also slimed. Merlin measured their setting critically with his eye.
The shimmering of the water was very thick here, but not enough to veil those possible stepping-stones from him. To take that path, though, he must put aside his own defense by the rod and thus expose his coming to any watcher in the castle. He considered the problem and could see no other answer.
Merlin tied the wand fast to his belt with cords—tight enough to insure he could not lose it—for he would need both hands free now. Finally he swung himself over the edge of the break, dropped with all possible caution to the top of the first water-washed rock.
He kept a wary eye on the water itself. If there were any more monsters in this lake, this was the proper place and time for them to make their presence known. The surface of the water shimmered so much he could not see what lurked below it.
The next rock was green with slime, and it was more than a possible stride away. He would have to jump that gap—the quicker he moved the better. Merlin leaped, his feet skidding, but he went to his hands and knees, clawing for a hold so he would not slide into the water.
Disaster had been so close his mouth was dry and he was shivering. He had kept his perch; the next rock was not so far away. Also, though its top above the level of the lake was very broken and rough, that stone was drier.
It took resolution to move on to that perch, however. And, when the second stone teetered under his weight, as if about to turn over and fling him into the water, Merlin fought fear once more. This block would be hard to take off from and, though the next was far more level, it was slime-streaked.
Somehow he made the step once more, his heart pounding, as the broken rock swayed with every movement. He squatted on the third stone to get his breath, glancing around for any hint that he might be the quarry of some other foul creature.
The last jump landed him at the foot of the other side of the break. Now he stood on a small outcropping of stone, hardly wide enough to hold his feet. His face was only inches away from the wall he must climb. He reached above him, not daring to stretch his head far back to look up, hunting holds for his hands and feet.
He found them and pulled himself up. When he edged over the top of the causeway he lay for a moment, willing his heart to beat normally, his will to establish control over his emotions.
Then he got to his feet. Before him was a doorway but no door was shut against him. Instead there was what seemed to be thick darkness between Merlin and the interior, as if indeed some night cloud had been fitted there to keep out the light of day.
Merlin untied the wand from his belt and held it in his hand with the gem upward. It pointed toward the doorway of its own accord, pulling the wand straight in his grasp. Though he needed no assurance, he could tell by the action of the star stone that like indeed called to like and what was in the tower was not entirely of his earth.
As he walked steadily toward that dark-curtained doorway he feverishly sought to discover whether any new guardian lay in wait beyond. Did Nimue have henchmen and women to serve her, perhaps plucked like the serpent of the lake, from some other world or time?
If there were other guards they had some defensive cover which was not for his understanding, because he could pick up no trace, nothing similar to the haunters of the woods. He stood before that curtain which swirled and billowed within the opening, and in that instant he was aware that Nimue needed no locks or doors. This cloud stuff was as efficient a barrier as solid stone would be. Try as he would, Merlin could not advance another step.
He was not ready to concede defeat, however. Instead he drew forth from his belt pouch the last of his armament, Lugaid’s scrap of metal. This could be bent if one exerted pressure enough, as well as will. Now he pressed it as tightly as he might about the gemmed point of his wand, until the stone was covered with a cap of shining metal. The closer he advanced it toward the cloud door, the more its own light brightened. Then he thrust it straight into the center of the darkness as a warrior would strike with a spear. There answered a glare of light so brilliant Merlin’s eyes were blinded, and a sound as if a thunderclap had burst just above his head.
He smeared his hand across his eyes, willing sight back to them.
The doorway before him was now clear. And, if the sun did not reach beyond it, there was light of another kind in the windowless interior, no light of lamp or torch, but brighter.
Merlin, holding the wand before him, crossed the threshold.
As the cave had been when he first sighted it, so this vast inner room, which must include all of the lower story of the tower, was crowded with a huge number of installations. He recognized some as resembling those which fostered the mirror, having the same flickering of light across their surfaces. Others were strange. And there was no mirror. In whatever way Nimue received her instructions it was not in the same manner as Merlin had his.