This is the sequel to The Crystal Rose and picks up in the middle of a battle, so if you haven't read that first, you're going to be confused. More notes at the end of the chapter, including spoilers for the previous stories in this series.
The sudden clamor of the warning bell came as a relief to Merlin. He opened his eyes. There was silence outside, apart from the bell. He turned his head slightly. The sunrise cast a faint illumination over the sky.
He was lying, fully dressed, on his bed, curled up in a tight ball. He hadn't been able to sleep for days. The power was leaving him. He was barely strong enough now to lift a feather. It was a horrible feeling. He'd lost his magic once before, and he had never felt so lost and helpless. Now it was worse. Instead of finding that it was suddenly gone, he had felt it trickle away and nothing he could do that stopped it.
The dreams had been the worst. He knew what was happening. He was no longer needed. He'd protected Arthur until he had become King. That had really been his destiny. He'd provided the foundation for Albion, but it was not his destiny to live to see it rise. Nimueh had been right.
Had she felt this awful lost feeling? Was that why she had been so vicious, had tried to kill him instinctively, before she even knew who he was? He sat up, holding a blanket around his shoulders, and shuddered as a spike of molten ice came down from the clouds swirling in a dark haze above the gate into the courtyard. His successor was powerful, every bit as powerful as he himself had been at Camlann, perhaps more so. At least his death would be swift. No one could survive that kind of power for more than a second.
Merlin hoped that his successor would be a good man. He rather thought he was. He'd been feeling his presence for months now, in dreams and in fluctuations in the fabric of the world. He was glad that he'd found and killed Nimueh so quickly. He hadn't realized it at the time, but that had been the most merciful thing to do. She hadn't had time to linger on, fading, diminishing, feeling the years of immortality settling down on her.
But Arthur! What would happen to him? Would the new sorcerer love him and protect him as I have? Merlin wondered, staring blankly at the wall. He sighed and got up, going slowly over to one of the windows in his bedroom. He unlatched it and leaned out. From here, he could just see the courtyard.
It was crawling with the new soldiers from the Other Side. Melisende had insisted that they stay in the castle. She must have felt the new sorcerer coming, just like he had, and had them waiting there for hours. It was typical of her not to have told him. Now that he had lost his power, she treated him with undisguised contempt. She showed no mercy to the weak. And I could have taken her out with a blink a few months ago, he thought miserably. Why didn't I? Her daughter killed Cottia. She tried to kill Arthur. She promised she wouldn't send a patrol after him and then she did.
He shifted uneasily. He'd spend two weeks in the dungeons for objecting to that, and hadn't had the strength to break out. He was still in pain from the beating the guards had given him.
There was a cloud of mist, and the gate disintegrated. Despite himself, Merlin nodded approvingly. That was clever, and so simple, elemental. The new sorcerer had just shifted the cold from the storm above him into the gate, literally freezing it solid, and then melted it with a touch. He'd have liked to meet the man - boy, probably. Merlin wondered how old he was. Probably still a teenager, like he had been. Well, he wouldn't have to struggle so hard. Arthur knew now that not all magic was evil. At least the young man wouldn't have to live in fear of his life.
In the crush of green uniforms, Arthur's shining armor stood out, and the new daylight glinted off his fair hair. As he raised Excalibur to meet a soldier, the golden runes flashed for an instant on its side.
Now Merlin could see his successor. He was much shorter than Arthur, slightly built, swathed in a long dark cloak with slits cut out of it for his arms, and using a sword nearly as long as Excalibur with considerable skill. He was almost as good a swordsman as the King, Merlin realized with a dull feeling of surprise. But there was no doubt that he was a sorcerer. A sphere of cold fire was licking hungrily at the air as he held it in his free hand, a ball of pure energy held coiled up like a spring.
Merlin closed his eyes in pain. He'd seen this, in a nightmare. Arthur had been with him then. He'd woken him up, reassured him, changed the dream. I should be with him, Merlin thought despondently. I promised him I'd always be there. And now . .
The new sorcerer was catlike in his movements, quick and strong like a dancer. He cleared a small space around himself and the King. Then, suddenly, as a new wave of soldiers crashed into them, they both made the same odd twirling movement, a slight reflex of the arm, as they raised their swords. Merlin stared. The only people he'd ever seen do that were Arthur, Uther, and Morgana. That was . . . odd.
Now he could see the knights behind Arthur, pressing in under the arch of the broken gate. They were in a spearhead formation, led by Leon and Percival. There were other, shadowy, shapes there too, and he stared at them until his eyes watered. They were druids, moving slowly forward, protected by the knights. Why weren't they fighting?
Merlin rested his chin on his hands and watched Arthur, never taking his eyes off the shining figure fighting for his life in the courtyard below.
0000
They'd gotten through the gate and a little way into the courtyard. Freya stabbed a soldier, and as he fell back, looked quickly behind her. The knights were following them, only about fifteen paces behind, protected by the druids from arrows and bullets. Mordred was using the Sidhe staff with deadly accuracy, and following up its stunning blasts with slashes from his long daggers. Thalassa was perched on a crenellation, blowing gusts of white-hot flame on any soldier who made it through the gate. Freya grinned mirthlessly and turned back.
A heavy blow struck her, nearly making her fall. She stumbled backwards into Arthur. He turned and caught her around the waist with one hand, still fending off their attackers.
"What is it?" he asked breathlessly.
The weight was unbearable. She felt the pressure pushing her down, making her submit. "Someone's fighting back," she gasped. "Magic. Strong magic."
He was holding her up now, but he couldn't defend both of them. The soldiers were closing in.
A movement from the balconies that overlooked the courtyard caught her eye even as she sank to the ground. Archers were filing in, raising their crossbows. And she couldn't even shield herself, much less the King, and the druids thought she could.
"Get back to them," she tried to say. "Leave me."
"Like hell I will," said Arthur, standing protectively over her and lashing out at the soldiers.
0000
Merlin watched with alarm as the new sorcerer collapsed, leaving Arthur alone in the mass of enemies. Melisende must be dueling with him, he thought. And he's just used a lot of his strength to open the gate. He's going to win, of course. She can't kill the earth and the sea and the sky.
Then he saw the archers, and his heart seemed to stop. Archers, hundreds of them, all aiming their shafts at the King, now defending his new sorcerer. Alone. Cut off from his knights.
Merlin summoned the last bits of his strength. He didn't have the power to shield Arthur, or to deflect all the arrows. But he could still feel the young man's mind, and as he reached out into it he felt the weight of Melisende's telepathic attack. He braced himself and put all his strength into one last assault.
0000
Freya's head snapped up. The awful crushing weight had gone. She leapt to her feet, stabbing a man who was coming at the King from behind, and raking her claws across the exposed face of the man next to him. She spared a moment to gaze at them curiously. She had felt the itch as they tried to slide out before, when she was angry, but now she had her actual cat claws, still shimmering slightly with golden light, extending out from human hands beneath her fingernails. She slid them back in. They were useful, but not good for her grip on Mordred's sword.
She looked up and saw the archers preparing to fire. She stopped the arrow storm with an irritable wave of her hand, and then snatched the bows from their grasp and sent them flying to smash against the stone castle walls with a contemptuous glance. The bolts flew down and struck some of the archers' own men.
Arthur was watching her. "Are you all right? What happened?"
"Someone attacked me with magic, but they've stopped. Come on."
The knights had reached them. Mordred came up behind her, and she gave him back his sword, taking her staff in return. She tossed the ball of crackling sky magic - the power of the storm - up and down thoughtfully in her hand, then balanced it carefully on the tip of the staff. The blue crystal pulsed and glowed until it hurt her eyes to look at it.
"Sire," she said.
"Yes?" said Arthur.
"Tell your men to charge."
She took her staff in both hands and aimed the tip at the entrance to the keep. Then she let it discharge.
0000
Merlin watched through half-closed eyes as the knights of Camelot, and a lot of druids, hundreds of them, stormed the keep. They had to walk over the burnt and twisted bodies of the soldiers from the Other Side, but they didn't seem to notice. Some of the druids were chasing down the few soldiers who had not been instantly killed in the blast from the staff the new sorcerer had used, but most of them had already entered the castle.
He stumbled away from the window. He'd seen enough. Arthur had as good as reclaimed his throne. The new sorcerer would not be overwhelmed again. Merlin had done all he could, and he felt limp and weak as he knew that the last of his power was gone. He was useless now.
He put on his jacket and picked up the bag he'd kept packed by his bed for days. Then, without a backward glance, he left his chambers, went down the stairs, through a maze of cold, echoing halls where the sound of fighting was carried down to him, and into the tunnels beneath the castle.
Half an hour later, he emerged from the mouth of a fallen-in siege tunnel into the forest. He'd had to dodge a few roving bands of druids and knights, but no one had seen him. After all, he had had the run of those tunnels for centuries, all alone, while the land slept. He knew every inch of the castle and the lower town, and the forest for thirty miles around it.
When he was too exhausted to take another step, he sank down on the ground and called for Kilgarrah. The old dragon came, flying slowly, and landed before him. Merlin looked up at him, smiling for the first time in months.
"You came," he said.
"I cannot resist your call," said Kilgarrah. "Is it time?"
"Yes, I think so." Merlin got up, and with difficulty, climbed up to sit astride Kilgarrah's back.
"Where would you have us go, young warlock?"
"I'm not young anymore, Kilgarrah. I'm older than you were when we met. I know I don't look it, but I feel it. I - I don't have magic anymore, you know."
Kilgarrah's huge wings beat the air as he slowly climbed up into the sky. "You and I were born of magic, Merlin. We can never lose it."
"I may still have it, but I can't use it. Not now. My place in the world is filled by someone else. I saw him in action today. He seems a good fighter, and Arthur defended him when he was attacked by Melisende, so they must get on well together."
"That is good." Kilgarrah was silent for a while, and then said, "She is also a Dragonlord, the last of the female line. Aithusa is her mount, and she has already hatched a young female, a sea dragon."
"She?"
"Your successor is a young woman."
"Oh!" Merlin was surprised. "She is an excellent swordswoman."
"So Aithusa told me. She is also a shapeshifter."
Merlin gave a short, bitter laugh. "So she really is exactly like me. No wonder I have no power anymore."
"Not entirely," Kilgarrah said slowly. "She is suspicious, and does not trust in her goodness of her friends. Her determination to be alone in her responsibilities will be her downfall, just as your kindness was yours."
"Arthur?" Merlin asked, his voice urgent. "Albion?"
"They will survive. I fear Freya will not. She has a heart of ice. It is undefeatable for a time, but it too much pressure is placed on it, it will shatter. She must learn to melt and flow, but that is something she can never teach herself."
Merlin shook his head. "As long as Arthur is safe, that's all I care for."
"Arthur is not everything, Merlin. There are other things -"
"Not for me. Not anymore. There's no one else left."
"Where shall I take you, my brother?" Kilgarrah, his old slow voice unusually gentle.
"I don't know," Merlin whispered. "I just want to go home."
Kilgarrah turned to face the north. "Then I will take you to the Isle of the Blessed. No one has gone there for centuries. There is still magic there, enough to sustain us. It will bring us both comfort as we fade."
Merlin nodded agreement. "Whatever you say. Are you going there too?"
"Our time is over. Both of us have no place. If you want me, I will stay with you."
"Yes, Kilgarrah. I want you. I don't want to be alone again."
They flew on in silence. Behind them, the sun rose, and the snowflakes danced in the wind, swirling down towards Camelot.
So, the usual notes. This is (obviously) a crossover with Discworld, and it also features a fairly obvious crossover with Doctor Who.
This is a Freylin AU in that the episode 'The Lady of the Lake' did not happen and Freya is a distant descendant of Morgana, born in the future after Arthur rises, who came to Camelot and then was unfairly judged by Merlin and Arthur for her parentage after they had already gotten to know her. She ran away and Mordred found her, and she is the subject of druid prophecies that say she is destined to replace Emrys. She is also a dragonlord (because I don't like the idea of having no females be able to have dragon friends). Yes, that's a spoiler, but if you don't want to read the books before this, you need to know it. :)