Hello there! This idea wouldn't stop bugging me, and I thought I should write it out. Unfortunately, the results for the poll I took on which Merlin story to write first ended out being a tie, and I couldn't wait any longer to write so this is one of the stories that was in the tie. I will be writing the chapter of the other story shortly. By the way, this takes place in between The Coming of Arthur Part 2 and The Darkest Hour Part 1.
Chapter One
Morgana gritted her teeth as she pulled the ever heavy wagon behind her; the wood pricking at her skin no doubt to cause endless, painful blisters to form on her already worn hands. Her black dress sagged on the dirt road; the seams being ripped apart and torn into pieces by being rolled upon by the wheels, dwindling away in the faintly present wind. The sun blazed upon her tattered and tangled dark hair. Oh, how had she come to this? Once a lady, a queen! A rightful queen did not deserve to live in these sad, filthy conditions. She would rise again soon, she promised herself every waking minute that she would. It was the only thing to live for now.
Her sister lay asleep in the wagon. She would have almost looked peaceful, if not for the jagged scar that marred the right side of her face. Morgause was wrapped in a dark brown cloak for warmth, and her blonde curls rested on her chest. The High Priestess did not deserve to be handicapped, to be dragged around in a dirty wagon for the rest of her days. Morgana would see to it that Merlin would pay for the many crimes he did unto her sister.
They had traveled many, many miles far from Camelot. It had been three months since their plans went to ruin, and from what Morgana heard the people were enjoying the prosperous age that the newly appointed reagent Prince Arthur had bestowed upon them, a fact she cursed. She and Morgause had escaped the Throne Room after its collapse, and it had seemed that all was lost. Until a sorcerer by the name of Borin had sent word to them by a messenger boy to meet him and his pack to the outskirts of King Meridon's kingdom, where they would be welcomed graciously.
At first, Morgana had refused the offer, saying they were fine on their own and at that point the only person she felt she could trust and confide in was her sister. But, he then mentioned in his letter that he could help them win back the kingdom that rightfully belonged to her, saying it would be an honor. She had accepted his invitation only then, and it was for that reason that she was traveling in the secluded wastelands that bordered King Meridon's kingdom. The journey had been long, and extremely tiring, but they were nearing their destination. She approached a relatively young man with a rugged beard who was leaning on a pole for supporting, resting.
"Excuse me, my good Sir," she addressed him, "Are you among the pack of a man called Borin?"
He asked gruffly, "What's it to you?"
"I have been invited here. I am the Lady Morgana; a High Priestess of the Old Religion and the former and rightful Queen of Camelot. I am assuming that his camp is ahead. May I pass?"
"Oh yes, the lassie Borin has been raving about. Yeah, straight ahead, can't miss it, my Lady," he mocked. Morgana scowled at the insolent fool and knocked him against his blasted pole, smirking in satisfaction when she observed a light stream of blood trickling from his temple.
The camp, as she drew nearer, was quite simple and modest. There were several tents set up in the formation of a circle, a fire was crackling in the center, and three men surrounded it talking to each other. Hopefully this sorcerer Borin knew exactly who he was dealing with, for his own good. The men looked up as soon as they had noticed that they had approaching company, and only silence filled the air as she walked up to the campfire and lowered the wagon to rest upon the wheels. Morgana smiled warmly as she glanced back to the wagon where Morgause was awakening from her slumber.
"The Lady Morgana. You truly are more beautiful than any bounty in the five kingdoms," a man claimed. He was young as well, for they all seemed rather youthful, his brunette hair was neatly trimmed along with his beard, and he wore a white tunic and brown trousers. He displayed his charm further by reaching for her hand and gently placed his lips upon it. It was a courtesy that none had given to her since she had taken over the throne. Morgana fondly remembered those nights where the knights would advance to where she was seated during a feast and chat her up; offering a glass of wine and the most thrilling night any woman in Camelot would ever remember. But she had given up that life long ago.
"High Priestess Morgause. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. It is a shame fate has not been kind to you," he then said to Morgause. Her sister smiled with bitter sweetness in acknowledgement.
Morgana announced, "I presume you are Borin, the sorcerer who sent word for us. You have promised me a victory. Do not fail me when we have not yet begun."
"I see, straight to point. I like women who are like that. No awkward and unnecessary chatter. Please, be seated. You must be tired from your long journey out here to the wastelands. Please forgive me; I thought it to be the only safe place to meet."
"May I confess to you that as you are speaking all I am hearing from you is idle chatter," she countered tersely. He blushed slightly in embarrassment and sat down next to her. She was beginning to lose faith in this man who she was previously confident in.
"I have come across a spell in my travels; one I know will bring Camelot to their knees," Borin began. Morgana grinned.
"Please, do go on," she encouraged, now intrigued.
"There is one woman who is capable of bringing Camelot down, and I believe if you ever want to see your kingdom again, you must seek her help. Her name is Nimueh."
Morgana gazed up at Morgause as her eyes suddenly lit up in interest and yet confusion. For these past three months, her sister's face had remained mostly blank. It had killed a little part within her to see her sister so weak, so hopeless. She used to always have that certain gleam when planning to destroy Camelot. It seemed that only now had it returned.
"This man speaks of lies. We cannot seek help from Nimueh, she is dead. She lies with the Triple Goddess in peace," Morgause asserted. Morgana glared at him and enchanted a knife to fly up right to his neck, the tip resting where his Adam's apple was.
"Please, let me explain," he spluttered out in panic.
"I am tired of explanations. You have led us here under false pretenses, but I swear to you, you will sorely regret ever having done so."
Borin slowly stated, "I know a way to return the great Nimueh from her grave."
"Why should this Nimueh matter to us? You claim that she is capable of bringing Camelot down, then why hadn't she done so when she was alive? I have never heard of her before this night. And what makes you think that only with her will we be able to win? I have won the kingdom once and I shall do it again. Speak! It may be your last chance to save yourself," she demanded.
"My Lady, I will be dead and gone within the hour. Just please listen to me. Nimueh would have invaded Camelot, had it not been for her untimely death five years ago. She was a High Priestess of the Old Religion as well. There are always meant to be three High Priestesses, for the three Goddesses who represent the Triple Goddess. The balance has been unstable for twenty years, ever since the Great Purge. And if you and your sister should die, perhaps in attempting to regain Camelot, who will pass down the knowledge of the Old Ways? If there are no High Priestesses who serve the Old Religion then the Old Ways will surely die out. We must preserve and protect the ways of the Old Religion; that is the price we must pay for the gifts it has granted us. I am truly insignificant in this matter, only for the fact that I must make the ultimate sacrifice."
Morgana looked up imploringly at her sister, seeking for the right answer. She had not done this in some time, but this man and his claims were questionable.
"He is right. The balance has been unstable for some time. I was fortunate when I found you Morgana, I thought I would be the last High Priestess there ever was. We must restore the balance. I thank you Borin, for your sacrifice for our cause."
"What does he mean, 'sacrifice'? Sacrifice what?" she inquired.
"In order for a life to be given a life must be taken in return. That is the rule of the Old Religion. I believe Borin intends to sacrifice his life in return for our lost High Priestess," Morgause explained calmly.
"Yes, I do, High Priestess. It would be an honor. However, this ritual is complicated. It takes a very ancient incantation, a medallion once possessed by one of the High Priests of Old, and a sacrifice in order to work. Luckily, I have acquired both the spell necessary and the medallion needed."
Borin pulled from around his neck indeed a large, round medallion, but other than size it wasn't really impressive. The material itself looked as though it had been made from cheap clay, but the intricate designs in the center were no doubt markings of the Old Religion.
"The medallion may not look impressive now, but it soon will. You must have this around my neck as you sacrifice my life. Once Nimueh rises from the lake, you must put the medallion around her neck. If it is broken, stolen, then all hope is lost and she will die. But as long as the medallion remains around her neck, she will live forevermore. If you try to use the medallion to make yourselves immortal, it will not work. My sacrifice will be attached to that medallion, my sacrifice for her life, so the medallion will only work for her. We must ride out, to the Lake Vita Mortis. It is just within the borders of King Meridon's kingdom," Borin declared while his men fetched two horses.
"Are you able to ride the horse, Sister?" Morgana asked with concern.
"I believe I am able," Morgause replied.
One of Borin's men eased Morgause up to the back of the saddle and afterwards Morgana climbed upon the front of the horse, pulling on the reigns and following Borin. The journey was not long, half an hour at most. And there it laid, Lake Vita Mortis, in its stunning beauty yet sorrowful surroundings. Plants and tiny flowers coated the surface of the water, and yet ground on which they walked was blackened as if scorched by a monstrous blaze of fire that swept and killed everything within its path.
Borin laid himself near the lake, sliding his eyelids over his eyes, and folded hands on his chest in a formal manner. Morgana kneeled next to him, holding a knife just slightly above his chest while she practiced in her head the spell that Borin had taught her on their way there.
"Are you ready?" she questioned. She thought she should have the decency to ask.
"I am at peace. Before I go though, I must request something. I find that this is the coward in me asking this. May you make my passing swift? If I am to die, than I should not want to linger in this world in agony before I depart to the Afterlife."
"I shall try. Ego promissum proventus is ea id vita enim tui. Cresco ab illis aqua profundum atque vagari occasus terra olim magis."
Her magic swelled within herself, surrounding her in such a way she had never imagined. The knife wavered over his chest. Morgana always thought of how to make the killing of people most painful or most efficient. This was different. This was a mercy killing, a sacrifice; he was dying in the name of the High Priestesses. She pierced the knife through Borin's heart. He let out a slight gasp in pain, but his eyes never opened as he slipped in the arms of Death.
What attracted her eyes was not the blood seeping from his wound in the process staining his tunic a bright crimson; it was the medallion he bore around his neck. The round object glowed golden, and upon inspecting it Morgana found it was of actual gold. She could have mistaken the process for alchemy, but Old Ways did not steep that low. As she smoothed the big pendant in her hands, she could distantly hear the voice of her sister who sat atop her horse.
"Look to the water, Sister. It has begun. She has arisen."
She had been so mesmerized by the medal, realization only dawned upon her moments later that the procedure had begun. Quickly, she darted to the lake, outstretching the emblem to the emerging figure from Lake Vita Mortis. Nimueh wore what looked like a dark red dress and her brown braids scarcely touched her shoulders. The sorceress spoke nothing as she approached Morgana, only lowering her head. Morgana placed the medallion around her neck.
"Welcome, Nimueh, High Priestess of the Old Religion. We are one of the same," Morgana greeted with a slick smile.
"I thank thee, my Lady, for what you have done for me," Nimueh thanked as she stepped out of the lake. "I understand that you require my help. That can be…arranged. But if anything is to be done, then we must work fast. Precious time is slipping and there is something—no, someone I must attend to first."
"Camelot must be mine, you must understand that. I have worked far too long, sacrificed far too much to be denied my request. Please, we are both Priestesses. I can and I will return the Old Ways back to the kingdom. I must win Camelot, and fast, before Arthur is crowned King," Morgana pleaded as Nimueh headed towards the horses.
"I promise you will have your victory, my Lady. I will make you Queen. But first I must seek an unlikely ally, one whom with a little persuasion will help me make you Queen. He is the most powerful sorcerer to have ever walked the Earth," Nimueh proclaimed.
Morgana interrogated, "Who is this sorcerer you speak of?" Nimueh smiled.
"I shall show you. I see now that you are not alone. Morgause, it has been many years since I have seen you. How long does it take to travel from here to the Isle of the Blessed?" the sorceress questioned Morgause upon spotting her.
"It has taken us three months to arrive here," Morgause responded.
Nimueh shook her head commanding, "We will be wasting time if we ride on horseback. Each of you, take one of my hands." She extended both her right and left hands which both Morgana and Morgause grasped. "Accipio nobis ad occasus Andron ab occasus Beatus."
A wind swirled and spun about them, the lake and forest no longer visible. Soon, the winds died down and they were surrounded by an abandoned, ruined castle. Chunks of crumbled stone lay scattered among the grass, the sky looked overcast, and the breeze stirred an unnatural feeling of numbness and cold within Morgana making her wish she was back at Borin's camp sitting by the warm fire.
Morgause struggled to stand, and Morgana rushed to her side to assist her, slinging one of her arms around her shoulder.
"Do you know where she has taken us?" she whispered into her ear.
"The Isle of the Blessed," her sister answered. Nimueh beckoned for them to follow her. They hobbled into the castle, being led into the caves underground, the only feature of it being a scrying fount. The sisters walked over to the fount as Nimueh uttered her spell.
"Demonstro me quisnam ego orexis. Demonstro me Merlin."
Morgana's eyes shot back up to Nimueh, alarmed at the last word she had heard. Merlin. That name was unmistakable, that was not a word of the Old Religion. What on earth did Merlin have to do with what they were trying to achieve other than the fact that somehow he foiled her plans every single time? The water in the scrying fount had been almost blurred, but it cleared revealing the image of the very servant boy, by Arthur's side in the lower town carrying a basket of laundry of all things.
"What does Merlin have to do with any of this?" she demanded.
"Everything. This is the greatest sorcerer to have ever walked the earth. This is the sorcerer who will help you become Queen. And this is man who murdered me."
A tad suspenseful; ended it on cliffhanger (sorry guys!). I hope everyone was in character and everything, crossing my fingers here. It was a bit hard to write Nimueh at first but it was extremely hard to write Morgause post season three, and I wrote this chapter all in one day. Borin was a charming sorcerer who was devoted the Old Religion and would do whatever it would take to save it, even if it cost him his own life. I hope I wrote his character well enough. But obviously, he's not coming back. He's kind of dead now.
By the way as for the spells, I actually used Latin for the language for the Old Religion and I used an online English to Latin dictionary. If you do take Latin, you'll probably find a bunch of grammatical errors in the parts where I do use Latin but like I said before it was online dictionary. But I have the translations here to what the spells actually meant, if you were curious.
"Ego promissum proventus is ea id vita enim tui. Cresco ab illis aqua profundum atque vagari occasus terra olim magis." means "I offer up this life for yours. Arise from your watery depths and roam the earth once more."
"Accipio nobis ad occasus Andron ab occasus Beatus." literally means "Take us to the Isle of the Blessed."
"Demonstro me quisnam ego orexis. Demonstro me Merlin." means "Show me who I desire. Show me Merlin."
The lake in the chapter Lake Vita Mortis was of my own creation literally meaning in Latin Lake Life Death. I know, it's a pretty stupid concept. Life would emerge from the lake itself, but the forest surrounding it is where the people would die. The concept in the description of the place that the lake was so alive since life came out, but the forest surrounding it seemed so dead because the blood of many had been shed there.
For any of you who were interested (I'm guessing none, but oh well) that's what meant. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this so far and please review!