Merlin with the Dastan walked through the palace like nothing, none of the guards noticed there presence.
They soon ventured into a garden, the setting sun bouncing off the marble pathways leading to a small central arena. Where Memnon holds two quarter staff and faces off with an masters.
The Asian master also holds two staffs
Memnon charges at him, spinning the staffs in a remarkable display of martial skill. He disarms and strikes down the
man.the surrounding courtiers clap delightedly.
In archer pulls a bow from a large, ornately carved archery weapons cache -- a wooden box filled with various bows Memnon throws the staffs to the side where they are retrieved by two slaves.
The muscular, trim-bearded archer withdrew a formidable bow from a large, ornately carved wooden weapons box, in which numerous arrows and bows resided. Lord Memnon tossed away the two staffs, which were quickly retrieved and carried off by a pair of slaves, and walked to the center of the garden courtyard. He stretched his arms wide, as if welcoming a loved one. Then, slowly, he drew his hands together, arms stiff, until his open palms were separated by perhaps a foot, held out directly in front of his chest. The warlord's gaze locked with that of the archer.
The courtiers were gasping, murmuring among themselves, marveling, and fearful. The Great Teacher's outstretched arms formed a virtual pathway for the archer's arrow! Could Lord Memnon possibly intend to... He did so intend. The warlord held his position, just as his eyes held those of the archer, who drew back his bow.
The red-turbaned guards and the audience of courtiers were struck dumb, awed by the daring of their lord and master. Memnon nodded ... ... and the archer let fly!
Merlin was not surprised as be saw the unblinking Memnon snap his hands shut and catch the arrow, inches from a breastplate that would not have sufficiently shielded the warlord's heart. The Great Teacher nodded to the archer, who returned the gesture, but deeper, as the courtyard rang with applause.
Merlin muttered,"He is talented warlord, pity he is a bloodthirsty tyrant."
While he soon led Dastan away from the garden,he soon spotted a small entry in a tower at his path's dead end. In the corridor beyond, he hustled along, and the first door he came to, he shouldered open, and thrust himself inside. He shut the door and lowered the wooden beam— which had thankfully not been in place— that secured it. Then, breathing hard, he turned and took in his surroundings, and strange surroundings they were indeed.
Merlin dispelled the repelling magic and looked around. He had never seen the like of what he could not recognize as a primitive but prophetic laboratory, scattered with strange, imaginative inventions that centuries from now would have been worthy of da Vinci; the largest of these was a weapon Merlin did not recognize, because it had only recently been invented (by the chamber's occupant): a large wooden catapult. On rough wood-slab tables bubbled and burbled various potions and mixtures, brewing colorfully over a series of oil lamps. The chemical smells that permeated the modest chamber.
Merlin's keen eyes caught sight of a figure hunched over a cluttered workbench. It was Philos, the court magician of Memnon, shrouded in tattered yet dignified robes, his weathered face illuminated by the flickering light of an alchemical brazier.
As they entered, the air crackled with the energy of Philos' arcane experiment. With a sudden start, Philos turned towards them, his eyes wide with surprise, the wrinkles on his face deepening in concern, as he questioned,"Good Lord! Are you going to k*ll me?"
Merlin looking around shook his head and replied,"No, we are looking for the Sorcereress."
Philos hummed in understanding went back to his experiment and said,"Memnon's always threatened to have my head."
Philos could tell far from a normal person. So he questioned,"Who are you?"
While looking around, Dastan answered,"He is famous wizard Merlin."
Philos looked at Merlin in awe and muttered,"I have heard tales of your deeds, Knowledge and skills, I wanted to meet you for a long time. I wanted discuss many things with you."
As Dastan's curiosity led his gaze to a small bowl with black sand, Alexander recognized as gun powder.
The bowl filled with gunpowder, with a central ladle that spins clockwise. This spinning action serves a dual purpose: it mixes the gunpowder to ensure an even consistency, and it also gradually pushes the powder down into a secondary bowl below.
The spinning ladle in the bowl serves as a sort of primitive centrifuge, separating the fine gunpowder particles from any potential impurities or larger granules that might be mixed in. By pushing the refined gunpowder into a secondary bowl, it ensures that only the purest powder is used.
As Dastan was about to touch it, Philos's hand swiftly intercepted, halting his advance with a stern warning. "Don't touch that," Philos admonished firmly.
Intrigued, Dastan persisted, his voice laden with curiosity. "What is that?"
Philos's response was cryptic yet laden with significance. "That's my special magic powder," he declared.
Dastan's confusion was palpable as he echoed the words, "Magic powder?"
With a solemn nod, Philos delved into an explanation, his words carrying the weight of both promise and peril. "Indeed, magic powder. It hails from a Chinese formula, obtained through considerable effort and expense. Mastered correctly, it has the potential to move mountains, clear pathways in an instant, and achieve wondrous feats." His expression darkened ominously. "Or, in the wrong hands, it could wreak havoc and devastation. Like all my creations, Memnon used for war."
Merlin observed the exchange with a knowing smile, acknowledging Philos's ingenuity despite the grave implications of his invention.
So Merlin questioned"What if you had the opportunity to escape?" he posed the question.
Without hesitation, Philos affirmed his decision. "I would seize it," he declared resolutely.
Merlin nodded solemnly, his eyes glinting with determination as he conjured a swirling vortex of magical energy, forming a portal to his castle where Melisandre awaited. "You can escape through this portal," he directed his gaze towards Philos, "if you explain the situation to the woman on the other side, she will provide you sanctuary."
Dastan's eyes widened with excitement and determination. "I want to go too! I want to learn magic!" he exclaimed eagerly.
A warm smile graced Merlin's lips as he regarded the young man's enthusiasm. "Very well," he agreed, his voice tinged with encouragement. "Go with Philos for now. We will meet once again, after I secure the Sorceress."
With a determined nod, Philos swiftly gathered his essential designs and gears, his movements purposeful and resolute. Dastan, brimming with anticipation, nodded in agreement as they stepped forward, crossing the threshold of the portal into an uncertain yet promising future.