No young boy, no matter how great, can know his destiny. He cannot glimpse his part in the great story that is about to unfold. Like everyone, he must live and learn. And so it will be for the young Warlock arriving at the gates of Camelot – a boy that will, in time, father a legend. His name: MERLIN.
The shrieking caw of a bird jerks me from my slumber. In a split second I go from the soft comfort of a land of dreams, to the cold reality of the ground below my cot, blankets tangled around my legs, as my pillow falls onto my head. Sitting up, I clumsily extricate myself from the offending blanket nest and glare at the bird currently perched on the bed post next to where, seconds before, my head had been. By some sick twist of Fate's humor, it's a Merlin bird. We glare at each other for several moments, its gaze defiant and mine daring it to create the sound again.
The bird's chest puffs up once more, the glimmer in its eye as sharp as the scream I know it is about to unleash.
There is a commotion outside – the sound of the young children waking to face the day – and the bird takes flight, rocketing through the tent flap it had, apparently, entered through.
"Emrys. I know you are awake. 'Tis time to face the day, and perform the Morning Blessing."
Iseldir, the Druidic leader of our camp, abruptly shatters the silence (well, as silent as it can be with those damned birds chirping so loud), his voice echoing through my mind. He has been a surrogate father to me since I was handed into the druid's care as a young child. My mother tried to raise me for as long and as best as she could, but in a world where Magik is a death sentence, she feared greatly, were I to stay with her, I wouldn't live past childhood. Before I turned five summers she had contacted the druids and given me into their care, telling them I had been performing Magik feats since I was seconds old (evidently I turned her hair blue before I even started crying). They welcomed me with open arms, for they knew immediately who I am: Emrys - The Child of Prophecy, bound to the Once-and-Future-King, bound to protect him and Albion, until such a time as I am no longer needed.
"Emrys, enough delay. I know you are apprehensive, but it is much healthier to share these thoughts, than keep them to yourself. Come, experience the morning with us."
With a long suffering sigh, I manage to pull the remainder of my light, summer blanket from where it as twisted around my feet, and kick it back onto the bed. The tent I live in is bright and colorful, small (as I am its only occupant) yet airy at the same time. I have few items of note inside – my bed, a basin with which to wash (though we usually use the river nearby) and a cupboard where I keep my clothing. Now though, the cupboard is empty, packed into a bag at the foot of my bed. I grab a change of clothes and put them on, glancing around my tent one last time; it's hard to believe I may never see this place, or any of the druids who live here, again.
My task for the last eleven or so summers has been training (both my magic, and political prowess) to prepare for the day it would be decided Albion's need for me is greater than that of the Druid's. I am to leave today on my Weaxung, my right of passage. When I return (If I return, my mind supplies, some never return) I will be a Man, ready to officially take on the mantle of leading not only my Clan, but all Clans. Now though, my task is to go out and seek my way in the world, as I search for the Once-and -Future-King. My first stop will be Camelot, where an old Sorcerer, willing to house me for a short while, lives. He sympathizes greatly with our cause, and will act as a sort of jumping off point as I figure out where to go looking. I know I should be excited to see what life is like beyond this clearing, but I will miss my people greatly.
They are gathered around The Morning Fire when I step out of my tent, young Mordred (the unofficial leader of the children, and lovable troublemaker) detaches himself from his father and scampers over. Skidding to a stop, mere inches from knocking me over, he holds his hand out in the greeting of my people: hands flat, fingers together, palms facing away from his body. I lightly touch my hands to his, bowing so my forehead can briefly meet his to complete the hello.
"Are you excited Emrys? You are finally going to see Camelot! Think of all the people, and the food, and the smell! Will it be crowded do you think? Will –"
He was cut off by Iseldir's kind, but stern tenor "That is enough Mordred. Let Emrys breath, he has yet to complete his duties for the morning - His last here."
Right. Morning Blessing. Every morning, the camp gathers around the fire to thank the Triple Goddess for her many gifts to us, before proceeding to break our fast together. I hasten my steps and join the circle, raising my hands to begin. I have never particularly enjoyed leading the Morning Blessing - it always seemed more of a chore than a reward - but now that I know this is my last, I find myself wanting to drag it out, make it last as long as possible. I know I will miss it from the bottom of my heart, just as I will miss the rest of my duties; all the things I have been scoffing at since the age of five, but suddenly seem so important to me – Morning, and Evening blessing, hosting any passing Druids, leading the monthly meetings, the list goes on. Before now I saw them as chores, things that took away from sleep, playing with the other children, or learning more magic, but suddenly they seem like an integral part of me. I know I am what one could call the Druid's "Leader", almost like a "Prince" on the verge of being "King" (This description seems wrong to me: The Druids are free spirits, and should not be confined by the ways of mortal men. Our customs are unique, and should stay that way.) and thus must hold these mantles, but I am afraid my leaving will somehow mean I am giving this up: leaving my people behind and effectively turning my back on them. I find it funny: up until today, I have spent my time fighting to stay solely Merlin, but, now that I have the chance to, I don't want to give up being Emrys.
The Blessing is over far sooner than I would like, and we are sitting down to eat. It is a light meal (heavier for me I notice, but I am traveling today), consisting of berries, porridge, and a small portion of dried deer meat. Everyone is quiet, focusing mostly on their food, and I want nothing more than to speak out, to shout; to say 'I won't go, you can't make me, my place is here, among my family. I'm sorry it took so long to realize, but please, please, don't make me leave, don't kick me out, don't send me away'. I stay quiet, as is expected, and swallow the fear with my fruit.
Iseldir knows though, I can tell by the way he glances at me over his bowl, and approaches me after everyone else leaves for their morning duties.
"You are afraid." It is not a question - just the cool soothing feel of his balanced mind brushing against mine, certain in his knowledge.
"What if I fail? What if I don't find Him? I have such little information to go on –"
Iseldir places his hand on my shoulder, effectively silencing me. His eyes are soft, his face gentle - kind and understanding.
"Do not Fear that which you do not know, this will only lead to Spite -"
"And Spite only leads to Hate" It is a truth I have heard many times throughout my childhood, and I draw comfort from it now.
"You will find Him when you find Him, and when you do, the Goddess and Magik will let you know. Trust in yourself Emrys, listen to your instincts, and live everyday with the utmost kindness for others. If you do this, you will be fine. Your Magik is strong, your Will even stronger, but your Heart? Merlin, your Heart is the strongest I have seen."
In all honesty, I am not sure how much this has calmed my fear that I will fail - that the Druids have made a mistake and somehow I am not Emrys - but it has calmed my soul, and confirmed in me that no matter if I find Him or not, I at least won't be eaten alive in Camelot... most likely. "Thank you, Iseldir. For your kind words, and for all you have done for me in the last years."
"It is us that should be thanking you, Emrys. You have been leading our people from an age much younger than was probably advisable. One last piece of advice – trust in your training, and what we have taught you, there might not be a chance to practice while in Camelot. I have a letter for Gaius, please give it to him when you see him. I wish you well Emrys; may the Goddess look kindly upon your journey."
He gives me one last squeeze to my shoulder, before backing into the gathered crowd. I look at those assembled, crammed into the center of a clearing full of tents, and know: no matter where I am, or where I end up, this is home.
I turn, glancing away from the warm, sunny, tree lined clearing, and into the darker forest surrounding it.
"Buck up Merlin, this is only the first day of the rest of your life."
I step into the forest, leaving my people behind.