7.
Nimueh sat back in her chair, the desk before her was tidy, neat. Her mobile remained silent. Since calling Bedwyr the night before she had waited patiently for a return call. It was now past nine the following night.
“Damn,” She said quietly and pressed the intercom button. She barked into it. “Morgause, I’m about to place an important call on my blackberry. Trace it.”
“Yes ma’am,” was the tinny reply and Nimueh immediately heard her employee begin a chant. She was glad she had a tech mage as her PA.
She picked up the ‘phone and pressed speed dial. All her numbers were on speed dial. The ancient warrior sounded his usual grumpy self.
“What do you want?”
“Why, the pleasure of hearing your voice, of course. Where are you?”
“Somewhere in the southern half of Cymru, life witch. What do you want?”
Nimueh inwardly sighed, but held her temper in check. She was an expert at that. Some viewed her as cold. She liked to think she was methodical. “The boy, Merlin, has been dealt with?”
She heard in someone in the back ground say “You wait around to kill a boy? I thought you had honour, leech!”
“Shhh.”
Nimueh was glad that the vampire was not clued up on the use of technology and of her own, magically enhanced blackberry. She muttered a quick spell to identify life. “By his speech I would say you have a lupine with you. There will be no double crossing on your mind, would there be Bedwyr?”
“I owe you a favour_”
“A very big favour.”
“_and I will repay it.”
Nimueh did not like the sound of that. He had not specified when he was going to pay back what he owed her. “Do not welsh on me.” She liked the play on words. It amused her.
The line went dead and she calmly pressed the intercom button once more with a perfectly manicured finger. “Well?”
“A village called Trellech, ma’am.”
Nimueh knew of every Neolithic site in Europe and her memory immediately pinpointed where Bedwyr was, what the mundanes called the Harold Stones. “Send a car immediately and a helicopter to Cardiff. The squad that destroyed Hunith Emrys can be sent to the village, but out of sight of the Harold Stones. Also, prepare a sacrifice, a child for what I have to do.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Nimueh stood and smoothed out her black, Armani skirt. The child would not be missed. There were plenty that disappeared daily from the streets of London.
She picked up her small shoulder bag, also black, and walked to her private lift to get to the ancient oak in the office garden. She was determined that no young unknown factor was going to go unpunished for spoiling her plans concerning Gaius’ little group. This Merlin will die.
Bedwyr looked down at the crushed mobile in his hand for a few seconds, sighed impatiently and then pocketed it. He would have to acquire and learn how to use another one, again. He looked angrily at his vigil companion. Gawain visibly gulped.
“Have a care how you address me, wolf runner. I am not noted for my restraint.”
To the warrior’s admiration, the man squared his shoulders and did not back down. “I haven’t got much love for humans, what with the way they are despoiling Mother Earth, but I will not stand by and let an innocent boy die.”
Bedwyr stifled the quirk of his lips. A brave one indeed. He stood and so did the wolf runner. In the back of his mind he felt the stirrings of satisfaction about the fact that he was a good head taller. “I hope you have brought a change of clothes.” He continued as the mortal raised an eyebrow in question. “A powerful mage comes and there may be fighting.”
Gawain shrugged his shoulders. There was little interaction between the supernatural groups, which was just as well; the world would not be able to survive the conflicts. Still, the mortal’s ignorance would give him courage.
“Just be ready, Gawain McKenna.”
“I have fought before. The last time was against leech_ vampires.”
Bedwyr ignored him and went back on his haunches and, after a staring contest that the mortal lost, so did Gawain.
Gawain was bored after the first twenty minutes, but he dared not turn his back on the leech, perhaps one of the most powerful in Britain, if the legends were to be trusted. After thirty minutes, the ancient leech had received a ‘phone call that had put them both in a bad mood. Gawain did not like the sheep, as his kind called ordinary humans, but he heard the woman at the other end of the ‘phone (lupines had very good hearing) call this Merlin a boy. He always felt protective towards innocents, towards those who could not know any better.
He thought back to earlier that day, to the time when he was ejected from his pack forever.
“You are thirty, Gawain, and yet you have not found a mate. We are too few in number to indulge in your fancies,” his grandmother, the pack’s shaman, had said while cooking lunch. “You now what I mean.”
Gawain blushed at that and had got a bit defensive. “Gran, not this again. I’ve had girlfriends; I’m just not ready to settle down.”
Gran stared at him coldly. “I’ve been in the Dreaming and have seen visions of you. You will go to the Harold Stones and meet your true love and you and he will go on a long journey.” Gran went back to her cooking, preparing the pastry for the steak and onion pie. “Your father’s at work ‘til much later. I told him you’ll be gone by the time he gets back.”
His father was pack leader and very anti-gay, as Gawain had found out early on in his life when he was hit to within an inch of his life (“To beat the fucking fairy out of you.”). Gawain did not want the feelings he had for other men and had been out with a string of girlfriend, a very long string, or getting a reputation of being the village drunk. He could imagine the anger his father must have showed on hearing Gran’s vision and Gawain knew that his time in the pack was up. He felt almost relieved.
“I’ll go and pack my stuff then.” At the silent response he had just leapt the steps two at a time to his bedroom and shoved some clothes in a duffle bag.
On coming back down he hovered by the kitchen door, not knowing what to say. Just saying “Good bye” to thirty years of his life did not seem adequate. It was all he was going to have though. He moved to give his Gran a hug, but she shrugged her shoulders and moved to rummage amongst the pots and pans in the cupboard under the sink.
“I had such high hopes for you, about you one day following in my footsteps and becoming pack shaman.”
“Gran, look at me.”
“Best you leave. You’re not welcome here seeing that you’ve decided to be one of them.”
With anger and hurt he had just silently left the house, got into in white van and drove all the way to Gwent with the cassette player blaring out his favourite band (Iron Maiden). Only once did he look at the road map to make sure of the right turning off the M4, when he had stopped at a service station near Chepstow. The sudden loneliness had hit him fully then. He had become a lone wolf that other packs despised and made fun of. He thought that his life could not get any worse.
Gawain brought his thoughts back to where he was. In front of a leech who could very easily rip him apart. Some vampires were very fast and very, very strong and he thought that the ancient one in front of him would have picked up a few tricks or two over the centuries. Not that leeches liked drinking lupine blood (he was once told that it made them very excitable and reckless) but the fangs could still rip his throat out. Gawain thought that he might have a chance against this vampire if he changed form quickly enough. A very slim chance.
The lupine was also under no illusions that he might survive the night because of his Gran’s visions. They were, at best, just a snapshot of what might be and the outcome could change very quickly. He might very well go on a long journey, to Bristol perhaps, but he could also end up a bloody mess on the floor.
The leech is actually grinning at me! “What’s so funny?” he asked angrily.
Bedwyr then laughed out loud, which made Gawain angry even more.
“Forgive me, mortal. I sometimes forget how to act around the living. Do not worry. You will not become a bloody mess on the ground tonight, not at my doing anyway.”
“You’ve read my thoughts?” Gawain felt guilty and stupid. Guilty at the leech, vampire, knowing that he fancied men; stupid that he still had a lot to learn about supernaturals. He would have to learn fast if he was going to survive.
“Surface thoughts only. I’m growing to like you, young cub, but guard your mind well. My patience wears thin by your prattling.”
Gawain imagined his mind a field with very big wall around it, like his Gran had taught him when he was young and had taken him on Dream Walks.
By the satisfied and admiring look on the vampire’s face, it was the right thing to do. On analysing the vampire’s words, he was shocked to realise that the creature opposite him might be his true love. Then he thought better of it; no matter how muscular, the lupine definitely did not fancy men with black, long shaggy hair and beards and who dressed in denim that looked straight out of 70s. Gawain went back to his vigil and being very bored.
* * *
It took a day of careful riding along the torturous paths between the burial mounds before they left the Field of Fornost behind them and they eventually came out into a country side of gently rolling hills. Copses of ash and silver birch dotted the landscape and birds sang their spring songs in the air. The little group of travellers all breathed a sigh of relief.
They made camp and Celimdol prepared a coney stew. After the simple but filling meal, they sat on fallen logs or cloak covered small boulders and Myfanwy sang into the twilight, her voice beautiful and sad, yet it made Arthur feel rested and safe. Then Celimdol told stories of his homeland and the few memories he had of the court of Thranduil, King of North Mirkwood and the blonde thought that he would indeed one day like to travel with Merlin to the elf’s forest homeland.
Lance told how he had travelled the world in his teens, but finally settled down in London when he met the love of his life, Gwen. The look they gave each other when he finished made Arthur find and clasp Merlin’s hand. The black haired youth squeezed it with affection and the blonde’s heart soared with happiness at the simple gesture.
“I hope one day I find such a man, though perhaps one that doesn’t think he can boss me around!” said Morgana and they all chuckled.
Myfanwy smiled at her. “I cannot see the details of your thread, my lady, for that is not the workings of my gift; but I do see that you will…enjoy life. One day, I know, you will be yoked to a heart that is equal to yours and be happier for it. For when two hearts are so bonded together, as myself and my Lord Cynan are, then the burdens as well as the joys of life are shared and give nourishment to both souls.”
Her smile slightly faltered and Arthur, before he knew it, reached out and took her hand with his free one. “We’ll find him and bring him back to you. We will do this, I swear on Gilgalad.”
She squeezed his hand slightly and let go to pull her shawl more tightly around her fragile frame. “My lord, you wield a noble blade for a noble prince. A blade forged in the deep forests of Doriath, a great elf kingdom of the First Age. How the sword came to be in the Field of Fornost I know not, but its sight brings me much hope in this Third Age, this twilight of my race.” Her eyes took on a distant look and her voice became low, barely a whisper. “There will come a time when the light of Gilgalad will shine like a beacon of hope in a world of shadows and some of those shadows will praise the Prince of Hope. However, the coin has two faces, both different, and the path is fraught with danger. Disaster threatens on both side of the road.” The elf maiden gasped and clutched her hands to her breast. “Do not fear the darkness I beg thee, my worthy friends, do not fall into the pit of despair. She will return.”
Myfanwy breathed in a deep breath and looked around with a shy smile on her face. “A powerful foretelling, my gentles, but the meaning escapes me.”
They all grew silent then and mulled over the elf maiden’s words. After a while Merlin shifted on his log seat next to Arthur. “Erm, Morgana? What do you know of this Kara?”
Arthur stiffened and his lover must have sensed it because he planted a wet kiss on his cheek and whispered “Only curious.”
“Well,” began Morgana, “all I know is that she joined Professor’s Gaius’ dream group a few months ago, in the middle of January. She’s one of those modern pagan types, which is why I asked her about henges and standing stones.”
Arthur warmed to the subject. “What’s he a professor of?” he asked.
“Medicine, I think. He’s certainly helped me with the few dreams I used to have.” She turned to Merlin and playfully punched him in his unwounded shoulder. “Well, infrequent dreams until you came along.”
After the chuckling had subsided, they all fell into a companionable silence. Merlin shifted again and rested his head in Arthur’s lap and stared up into the sky. The blonde stroked his hair and he knew that he had such a stupid smile on his face that Morgana was sure to make fun at his expense in the morning. He did not care.
“The stars are so clear and bright and beautiful,” said his lover in awe. “You don’t get to see them much on our world like this anymore. Well, in the cities that is with all that light pollution. Makes you think as if we’ve lost some connection with the cosmos in our busy little lives. We’re always looking down, when we should be looking up.”
Arthur bent his head and kissed his brow. “I love you so much Merlin Emrys.”
“Fucking ditto…er…sorry Myfanwy. I meant I love you too.”
Arthur noticed Celimdol look away, but when the elf turned back he had a wan smile on his face and he slightly nodded in the blonde’s direction. Arthur nodded back, knowing that Merlin had missed the exchange between the two.
The moment was broken by Gwen. “Something is wrong. We are in danger.”
Merlin immediately sat up and Arthur unwrapped his sword from the spare horse blanket he had found on the mule. Myfanwy stood and snatched up her staff.
“Show yourselves, cowards, timid shadows of the night.”
An arrow thudded into her breast and she was knocked backwards.
“Got the stupid bitch. Gave me the perfect target she did. Malthidel is sure to give me a bonus,” said a voice from the darkness. “Did you see that?”
“Fool, kill the others.”
Arthur, like his friends, was stunned for a second, but a second arrow that thudded into the ground at Merlin’s feet shook them all from their shock. With a glance from the black haired youth, the fire flared up and a ball of flame soared into the air and lit up the area for yards around. Gwen went over to Myfanwy with her bag while Lance tried to cover them both with his shield. Morgana picked up the lore master’s staff and started to run towards the voices, but Celimdol and Arthur were before her.
The young blonde could see two figures at the edges of Merlin’s light, both had already notched arrows and let them fly. The elf battered one aside with his sword, his face a mask of fury. The second arrow was deflected by the coat of mithril that Arthur wore. He bore down on its owner and cut him down from his shoulder to his groin. In the split second that it took for Arthur to free his sword, Celimdol had decapitated the second scout with his swords. The elf sobbed once and went off into the gloom.
“I scout for others,” came his voice. “Go back to my Lady Myfanwy.”
Arthur did so without a thought and in silence collected Morgana on the way back to the camp site. He found Merlin, Gwen and Lance around the lore master. The young nurse looked at the blonde, shook her head slowly and buried it into Lance’s embrace.
“Please don’t die. Please don’t leave us. Don’t leave me. Please,” whimpered Merlin as he held the lore master’s hand and Arthur knelt beside him and wrapped an arm around his lover’s shoulders.
Though pain was etched into her features, Myfanwy smiled. “Sad am I to leave my little lore master. Be of good heart, your courage is beside you.” She looked at Arthur then and the blonde’s vision blurred. He furiously wiped away the tears with the palm of his hand. “Look after them, Third Officer of the Buckland Brewers. Look after him.”
Arthur swallowed against the dryness in his throat and then swallowed again. “I will,” he said hoarsely.
Myfanwy glanced at all their faces and finally settled on Merlin’s.
“Tell my sister in lore to look after what Brewers are left to her. She loves them as I do and she is not to weep for me. I also admonish you not to weep for me my friend. Tell my Lord_” she closed her eyes against the pain and when she opened them, Arthur saw that the light was dying in them. She had not much longer to live. “Tell him of my love for him. O my Cynan! Wait for me and do not grow bitter at my departure.”
Merlin, as did Gwen with Lance, buried his face into Arthur’s shoulder and sobbed.
“It grows dark and cold. Where is the curtain of light? Where_” and Myfanwy breathed her last.
“NO!” shouted Merlin, whipping himself away from Arthur’s embrace. “I did it once, I can do it again.”
Arthur saw his lover’s eyes turn to gold and he knew what he was going to do. He wrapped his arms around the struggling youth and pulled him a few feet away.
“I can save her, you prat. I can bring her back.”
“She wouldn’t want that Merlin. You know it,” whispered the blond in his ear and Merlin slumped, defeated.
“I know,” he whispered back and sobbed silently.
Arthur’s heart ached at his loss, at the pain his lover was suffering. He looked towards the other three. Morgana hugged herself, but refused to cry. Lance still held Gwen in his arms and she cried silently. How am I going to protect them now? He thought. How can I keep them all safe? Protect him?
He heard a rustling come from Myfanwy’s body and they all turned to look. Grass quickly grew to cover her form and just as quickly withered away. She was gone.
“She has gone to the Uttermost West,” said Merlin in a shaky voice. “To the halls of Mandos, until the ending of the world. Farewell my Lady Myfanwy.” His fire in the sky died.
Celimdol then came across the silent group and, on seeing their weeping, dropped his swords at his side and fell to his knees. He cried out his anger and despair and grief to the sky and then buried his face in his hands. Merlin went over to him and Arthur did not feel any jealousy.
“We’ll make the fuckers pay I promise.”
The elf removed his hands from his face and Arthur’s heart was torn in two at the dejected look he gave Merlin. “My mother, now Myfanwy. My brother?”
“We’re going to rescue him and make those fucking bastards pay.”
Arthur picked up his dropped sword and wrapped it once more in a blanket. “We’ve gotta move,” he said after taking a deep breath.
“For pity’s sake Arthur, give them a moment,” said Lance.
“That fire light will bring more of them. We’ve got to get them away from the road. Help me, please.”
Lance finally nodded and brought Gwen up to her feet. He went over to Morgana and she sobbed once before she started to help break camp.
Arthur went over to his lover and the elf. “Come on, both of you. It’s time to go.” Merlin stood and hugged him fiercely. “I know Merlin. I know,” was all he could say as he stroked the black hair and kissed the top of his head. Eventually, the two collected Celimdol’s swords and encouraged the elf to stand. Arthur made sure they were kept busy helping the others. In minutes the tents were packed onto the mule and they were leading the horses into the hills. Myfanwy’s white mare was pulled along with his own by Celimdol. He had insisted on it.
What do I do now? Doubt gnawed at Arthur’s insides as they all tried to sleep the rest of the night in the open under the beautiful stars. What can I do?
No camp fire was made.
Nimueh sat back in her chair, the desk before her was tidy, neat. Her mobile remained silent. Since calling Bedwyr the night before she had waited patiently for a return call. It was now past nine the following night.
“Damn,” She said quietly and pressed the intercom button. She barked into it. “Morgause, I’m about to place an important call on my blackberry. Trace it.”
“Yes ma’am,” was the tinny reply and Nimueh immediately heard her employee begin a chant. She was glad she had a tech mage as her PA.
She picked up the ‘phone and pressed speed dial. All her numbers were on speed dial. The ancient warrior sounded his usual grumpy self.
“What do you want?”
“Why, the pleasure of hearing your voice, of course. Where are you?”
“Somewhere in the southern half of Cymru, life witch. What do you want?”
Nimueh inwardly sighed, but held her temper in check. She was an expert at that. Some viewed her as cold. She liked to think she was methodical. “The boy, Merlin, has been dealt with?”
She heard in someone in the back ground say “You wait around to kill a boy? I thought you had honour, leech!”
“Shhh.”
Nimueh was glad that the vampire was not clued up on the use of technology and of her own, magically enhanced blackberry. She muttered a quick spell to identify life. “By his speech I would say you have a lupine with you. There will be no double crossing on your mind, would there be Bedwyr?”
“I owe you a favour_”
“A very big favour.”
“_and I will repay it.”
Nimueh did not like the sound of that. He had not specified when he was going to pay back what he owed her. “Do not welsh on me.” She liked the play on words. It amused her.
The line went dead and she calmly pressed the intercom button once more with a perfectly manicured finger. “Well?”
“A village called Trellech, ma’am.”
Nimueh knew of every Neolithic site in Europe and her memory immediately pinpointed where Bedwyr was, what the mundanes called the Harold Stones. “Send a car immediately and a helicopter to Cardiff. The squad that destroyed Hunith Emrys can be sent to the village, but out of sight of the Harold Stones. Also, prepare a sacrifice, a child for what I have to do.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Nimueh stood and smoothed out her black, Armani skirt. The child would not be missed. There were plenty that disappeared daily from the streets of London.
She picked up her small shoulder bag, also black, and walked to her private lift to get to the ancient oak in the office garden. She was determined that no young unknown factor was going to go unpunished for spoiling her plans concerning Gaius’ little group. This Merlin will die.
Bedwyr looked down at the crushed mobile in his hand for a few seconds, sighed impatiently and then pocketed it. He would have to acquire and learn how to use another one, again. He looked angrily at his vigil companion. Gawain visibly gulped.
“Have a care how you address me, wolf runner. I am not noted for my restraint.”
To the warrior’s admiration, the man squared his shoulders and did not back down. “I haven’t got much love for humans, what with the way they are despoiling Mother Earth, but I will not stand by and let an innocent boy die.”
Bedwyr stifled the quirk of his lips. A brave one indeed. He stood and so did the wolf runner. In the back of his mind he felt the stirrings of satisfaction about the fact that he was a good head taller. “I hope you have brought a change of clothes.” He continued as the mortal raised an eyebrow in question. “A powerful mage comes and there may be fighting.”
Gawain shrugged his shoulders. There was little interaction between the supernatural groups, which was just as well; the world would not be able to survive the conflicts. Still, the mortal’s ignorance would give him courage.
“Just be ready, Gawain McKenna.”
“I have fought before. The last time was against leech_ vampires.”
Bedwyr ignored him and went back on his haunches and, after a staring contest that the mortal lost, so did Gawain.
Gawain was bored after the first twenty minutes, but he dared not turn his back on the leech, perhaps one of the most powerful in Britain, if the legends were to be trusted. After thirty minutes, the ancient leech had received a ‘phone call that had put them both in a bad mood. Gawain did not like the sheep, as his kind called ordinary humans, but he heard the woman at the other end of the ‘phone (lupines had very good hearing) call this Merlin a boy. He always felt protective towards innocents, towards those who could not know any better.
He thought back to earlier that day, to the time when he was ejected from his pack forever.
“You are thirty, Gawain, and yet you have not found a mate. We are too few in number to indulge in your fancies,” his grandmother, the pack’s shaman, had said while cooking lunch. “You now what I mean.”
Gawain blushed at that and had got a bit defensive. “Gran, not this again. I’ve had girlfriends; I’m just not ready to settle down.”
Gran stared at him coldly. “I’ve been in the Dreaming and have seen visions of you. You will go to the Harold Stones and meet your true love and you and he will go on a long journey.” Gran went back to her cooking, preparing the pastry for the steak and onion pie. “Your father’s at work ‘til much later. I told him you’ll be gone by the time he gets back.”
His father was pack leader and very anti-gay, as Gawain had found out early on in his life when he was hit to within an inch of his life (“To beat the fucking fairy out of you.”). Gawain did not want the feelings he had for other men and had been out with a string of girlfriend, a very long string, or getting a reputation of being the village drunk. He could imagine the anger his father must have showed on hearing Gran’s vision and Gawain knew that his time in the pack was up. He felt almost relieved.
“I’ll go and pack my stuff then.” At the silent response he had just leapt the steps two at a time to his bedroom and shoved some clothes in a duffle bag.
On coming back down he hovered by the kitchen door, not knowing what to say. Just saying “Good bye” to thirty years of his life did not seem adequate. It was all he was going to have though. He moved to give his Gran a hug, but she shrugged her shoulders and moved to rummage amongst the pots and pans in the cupboard under the sink.
“I had such high hopes for you, about you one day following in my footsteps and becoming pack shaman.”
“Gran, look at me.”
“Best you leave. You’re not welcome here seeing that you’ve decided to be one of them.”
With anger and hurt he had just silently left the house, got into in white van and drove all the way to Gwent with the cassette player blaring out his favourite band (Iron Maiden). Only once did he look at the road map to make sure of the right turning off the M4, when he had stopped at a service station near Chepstow. The sudden loneliness had hit him fully then. He had become a lone wolf that other packs despised and made fun of. He thought that his life could not get any worse.
Gawain brought his thoughts back to where he was. In front of a leech who could very easily rip him apart. Some vampires were very fast and very, very strong and he thought that the ancient one in front of him would have picked up a few tricks or two over the centuries. Not that leeches liked drinking lupine blood (he was once told that it made them very excitable and reckless) but the fangs could still rip his throat out. Gawain thought that he might have a chance against this vampire if he changed form quickly enough. A very slim chance.
The lupine was also under no illusions that he might survive the night because of his Gran’s visions. They were, at best, just a snapshot of what might be and the outcome could change very quickly. He might very well go on a long journey, to Bristol perhaps, but he could also end up a bloody mess on the floor.
The leech is actually grinning at me! “What’s so funny?” he asked angrily.
Bedwyr then laughed out loud, which made Gawain angry even more.
“Forgive me, mortal. I sometimes forget how to act around the living. Do not worry. You will not become a bloody mess on the ground tonight, not at my doing anyway.”
“You’ve read my thoughts?” Gawain felt guilty and stupid. Guilty at the leech, vampire, knowing that he fancied men; stupid that he still had a lot to learn about supernaturals. He would have to learn fast if he was going to survive.
“Surface thoughts only. I’m growing to like you, young cub, but guard your mind well. My patience wears thin by your prattling.”
Gawain imagined his mind a field with very big wall around it, like his Gran had taught him when he was young and had taken him on Dream Walks.
By the satisfied and admiring look on the vampire’s face, it was the right thing to do. On analysing the vampire’s words, he was shocked to realise that the creature opposite him might be his true love. Then he thought better of it; no matter how muscular, the lupine definitely did not fancy men with black, long shaggy hair and beards and who dressed in denim that looked straight out of 70s. Gawain went back to his vigil and being very bored.
* * *
It took a day of careful riding along the torturous paths between the burial mounds before they left the Field of Fornost behind them and they eventually came out into a country side of gently rolling hills. Copses of ash and silver birch dotted the landscape and birds sang their spring songs in the air. The little group of travellers all breathed a sigh of relief.
They made camp and Celimdol prepared a coney stew. After the simple but filling meal, they sat on fallen logs or cloak covered small boulders and Myfanwy sang into the twilight, her voice beautiful and sad, yet it made Arthur feel rested and safe. Then Celimdol told stories of his homeland and the few memories he had of the court of Thranduil, King of North Mirkwood and the blonde thought that he would indeed one day like to travel with Merlin to the elf’s forest homeland.
Lance told how he had travelled the world in his teens, but finally settled down in London when he met the love of his life, Gwen. The look they gave each other when he finished made Arthur find and clasp Merlin’s hand. The black haired youth squeezed it with affection and the blonde’s heart soared with happiness at the simple gesture.
“I hope one day I find such a man, though perhaps one that doesn’t think he can boss me around!” said Morgana and they all chuckled.
Myfanwy smiled at her. “I cannot see the details of your thread, my lady, for that is not the workings of my gift; but I do see that you will…enjoy life. One day, I know, you will be yoked to a heart that is equal to yours and be happier for it. For when two hearts are so bonded together, as myself and my Lord Cynan are, then the burdens as well as the joys of life are shared and give nourishment to both souls.”
Her smile slightly faltered and Arthur, before he knew it, reached out and took her hand with his free one. “We’ll find him and bring him back to you. We will do this, I swear on Gilgalad.”
She squeezed his hand slightly and let go to pull her shawl more tightly around her fragile frame. “My lord, you wield a noble blade for a noble prince. A blade forged in the deep forests of Doriath, a great elf kingdom of the First Age. How the sword came to be in the Field of Fornost I know not, but its sight brings me much hope in this Third Age, this twilight of my race.” Her eyes took on a distant look and her voice became low, barely a whisper. “There will come a time when the light of Gilgalad will shine like a beacon of hope in a world of shadows and some of those shadows will praise the Prince of Hope. However, the coin has two faces, both different, and the path is fraught with danger. Disaster threatens on both side of the road.” The elf maiden gasped and clutched her hands to her breast. “Do not fear the darkness I beg thee, my worthy friends, do not fall into the pit of despair. She will return.”
Myfanwy breathed in a deep breath and looked around with a shy smile on her face. “A powerful foretelling, my gentles, but the meaning escapes me.”
They all grew silent then and mulled over the elf maiden’s words. After a while Merlin shifted on his log seat next to Arthur. “Erm, Morgana? What do you know of this Kara?”
Arthur stiffened and his lover must have sensed it because he planted a wet kiss on his cheek and whispered “Only curious.”
“Well,” began Morgana, “all I know is that she joined Professor’s Gaius’ dream group a few months ago, in the middle of January. She’s one of those modern pagan types, which is why I asked her about henges and standing stones.”
Arthur warmed to the subject. “What’s he a professor of?” he asked.
“Medicine, I think. He’s certainly helped me with the few dreams I used to have.” She turned to Merlin and playfully punched him in his unwounded shoulder. “Well, infrequent dreams until you came along.”
After the chuckling had subsided, they all fell into a companionable silence. Merlin shifted again and rested his head in Arthur’s lap and stared up into the sky. The blonde stroked his hair and he knew that he had such a stupid smile on his face that Morgana was sure to make fun at his expense in the morning. He did not care.
“The stars are so clear and bright and beautiful,” said his lover in awe. “You don’t get to see them much on our world like this anymore. Well, in the cities that is with all that light pollution. Makes you think as if we’ve lost some connection with the cosmos in our busy little lives. We’re always looking down, when we should be looking up.”
Arthur bent his head and kissed his brow. “I love you so much Merlin Emrys.”
“Fucking ditto…er…sorry Myfanwy. I meant I love you too.”
Arthur noticed Celimdol look away, but when the elf turned back he had a wan smile on his face and he slightly nodded in the blonde’s direction. Arthur nodded back, knowing that Merlin had missed the exchange between the two.
The moment was broken by Gwen. “Something is wrong. We are in danger.”
Merlin immediately sat up and Arthur unwrapped his sword from the spare horse blanket he had found on the mule. Myfanwy stood and snatched up her staff.
“Show yourselves, cowards, timid shadows of the night.”
An arrow thudded into her breast and she was knocked backwards.
“Got the stupid bitch. Gave me the perfect target she did. Malthidel is sure to give me a bonus,” said a voice from the darkness. “Did you see that?”
“Fool, kill the others.”
Arthur, like his friends, was stunned for a second, but a second arrow that thudded into the ground at Merlin’s feet shook them all from their shock. With a glance from the black haired youth, the fire flared up and a ball of flame soared into the air and lit up the area for yards around. Gwen went over to Myfanwy with her bag while Lance tried to cover them both with his shield. Morgana picked up the lore master’s staff and started to run towards the voices, but Celimdol and Arthur were before her.
The young blonde could see two figures at the edges of Merlin’s light, both had already notched arrows and let them fly. The elf battered one aside with his sword, his face a mask of fury. The second arrow was deflected by the coat of mithril that Arthur wore. He bore down on its owner and cut him down from his shoulder to his groin. In the split second that it took for Arthur to free his sword, Celimdol had decapitated the second scout with his swords. The elf sobbed once and went off into the gloom.
“I scout for others,” came his voice. “Go back to my Lady Myfanwy.”
Arthur did so without a thought and in silence collected Morgana on the way back to the camp site. He found Merlin, Gwen and Lance around the lore master. The young nurse looked at the blonde, shook her head slowly and buried it into Lance’s embrace.
“Please don’t die. Please don’t leave us. Don’t leave me. Please,” whimpered Merlin as he held the lore master’s hand and Arthur knelt beside him and wrapped an arm around his lover’s shoulders.
Though pain was etched into her features, Myfanwy smiled. “Sad am I to leave my little lore master. Be of good heart, your courage is beside you.” She looked at Arthur then and the blonde’s vision blurred. He furiously wiped away the tears with the palm of his hand. “Look after them, Third Officer of the Buckland Brewers. Look after him.”
Arthur swallowed against the dryness in his throat and then swallowed again. “I will,” he said hoarsely.
Myfanwy glanced at all their faces and finally settled on Merlin’s.
“Tell my sister in lore to look after what Brewers are left to her. She loves them as I do and she is not to weep for me. I also admonish you not to weep for me my friend. Tell my Lord_” she closed her eyes against the pain and when she opened them, Arthur saw that the light was dying in them. She had not much longer to live. “Tell him of my love for him. O my Cynan! Wait for me and do not grow bitter at my departure.”
Merlin, as did Gwen with Lance, buried his face into Arthur’s shoulder and sobbed.
“It grows dark and cold. Where is the curtain of light? Where_” and Myfanwy breathed her last.
“NO!” shouted Merlin, whipping himself away from Arthur’s embrace. “I did it once, I can do it again.”
Arthur saw his lover’s eyes turn to gold and he knew what he was going to do. He wrapped his arms around the struggling youth and pulled him a few feet away.
“I can save her, you prat. I can bring her back.”
“She wouldn’t want that Merlin. You know it,” whispered the blond in his ear and Merlin slumped, defeated.
“I know,” he whispered back and sobbed silently.
Arthur’s heart ached at his loss, at the pain his lover was suffering. He looked towards the other three. Morgana hugged herself, but refused to cry. Lance still held Gwen in his arms and she cried silently. How am I going to protect them now? He thought. How can I keep them all safe? Protect him?
He heard a rustling come from Myfanwy’s body and they all turned to look. Grass quickly grew to cover her form and just as quickly withered away. She was gone.
“She has gone to the Uttermost West,” said Merlin in a shaky voice. “To the halls of Mandos, until the ending of the world. Farewell my Lady Myfanwy.” His fire in the sky died.
Celimdol then came across the silent group and, on seeing their weeping, dropped his swords at his side and fell to his knees. He cried out his anger and despair and grief to the sky and then buried his face in his hands. Merlin went over to him and Arthur did not feel any jealousy.
“We’ll make the fuckers pay I promise.”
The elf removed his hands from his face and Arthur’s heart was torn in two at the dejected look he gave Merlin. “My mother, now Myfanwy. My brother?”
“We’re going to rescue him and make those fucking bastards pay.”
Arthur picked up his dropped sword and wrapped it once more in a blanket. “We’ve gotta move,” he said after taking a deep breath.
“For pity’s sake Arthur, give them a moment,” said Lance.
“That fire light will bring more of them. We’ve got to get them away from the road. Help me, please.”
Lance finally nodded and brought Gwen up to her feet. He went over to Morgana and she sobbed once before she started to help break camp.
Arthur went over to his lover and the elf. “Come on, both of you. It’s time to go.” Merlin stood and hugged him fiercely. “I know Merlin. I know,” was all he could say as he stroked the black hair and kissed the top of his head. Eventually, the two collected Celimdol’s swords and encouraged the elf to stand. Arthur made sure they were kept busy helping the others. In minutes the tents were packed onto the mule and they were leading the horses into the hills. Myfanwy’s white mare was pulled along with his own by Celimdol. He had insisted on it.
What do I do now? Doubt gnawed at Arthur’s insides as they all tried to sleep the rest of the night in the open under the beautiful stars. What can I do?
No camp fire was made.