A story inspired by the song "Red Right Hand" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.
A Microscopic Cog In His Catastrophic Plan
"Your move, old man," Merlin said to his companion.
He relished being able to call someone else 'old man' as his flowing white beard and his wrinkled skin certainly showed his age. It had been many years since he'd needed to use an ageing potion and the fact made him feel tired and annoyed. Although he had to admit that his soul had felt old even when he was a boy.
It was wintertime and the ground was covered in a perfect covering of snow. It was so perfect that when he'd left the castle, he'd felt compelled to use magic to cover his footprints over behind him as he walked.
He'd walked to the edge of Camelot, past the villages surrounding the castle to the great mountains and stood on the foothills overlooking the entire kingdom.
The great kingdom of Camelot.
Arthur had done extraordinary things to make Camelot what it was- a time of Albion. Occasionally during his lifetime, Merlin had sometimes wondered if the prophesies could ever happen- they'd seemed so remote at times.
Arthur was as old as Merlin was and they still had the same brilliant friendship and trust that was the envy of all. But Arthur was ill and Merlin had done all that he could that was in his power to do. As Kilgarrah had said all that time ago, death is but the cycle of life. No more, no less. It was this that had driven Merlin to walk his fear away, to use his magic to protect that which was perfect. He could at least control his footprints. He would go home presently as he didn't want to be away from Arthur for long, but the pull to run and take his impotent anger out somewhere remote had been too strong to ignore.
In the distance, it looked like a storm was gathering, but it hadn't reached him yet. That was when a figure had approached Merlin. It was a man, which Merlin could tell even though the man was entirely covered in ancient dusty black robes. Merlin couldn't see his face, or indeed any skin. Under the cowl covering his face seemed to be a black hole showing the nothingness and dust of the ages. Where memory fades and bodies crumble.
Merlin felt no animosity coming from this being, but he kept himself on his guard.
Merlin discovered that he still had the power to be surprised when the being knew his name.
"Merlin," the old voice cracked and wheezed out. "Sit with me awhile." The man in the long robes sat on a flat rock nearby. After a moment of staring at him, Merlin joined him.
The two old men straightened their respective robes out as they sat- one figure in red, one figure in black and then they sat in silence and stillness.
"You've done well Merlin," the man in black said. "You've achieved Albion just as the prophecies said. The Druids were right about you."
The figure turned to face the warlock, but even though they were sitting at the same level, Merlin couldn't see anything under the hood. What he did feel was the stare that was directed at him. It felt like it pierced his soul.
"Who are you?" Merlin eventually asked.
The man had a wheezing, dry laugh and didn't give Merlin the answer he wanted.
"I have a game for you."
Merlin stiffened- it sounded vaguely threatening.
"And a wager," the man added.
Merlin narrowed his eyes. "Who are you and what do you want?" he repeated.
"The King's time has come. He is an old man and I have come to collect him."
"Are you a magical being?" Merlin asked.
The man tilted his head, thinking. "I am of the oldest religion," he replied. "But you have been a good man Merlin. You have done your deeds well and for this, I am willing to make this wager."
Merlin sat, listening. "Go on," he eventually said.
"I have a game of cunning and strategy and if you beat me, then the King shall live a while longer. If you don't, then the King's time has come. As it was meant to be."
Merlin saw a board with black and white pieces on appear on the flat rock between them.
"The concept is simple enough," the man said, communicating this to Merlin through his mind.
"Do I have much of a choice?" Merlin asked through gritted teeth. He knew what the answer was.
"Not if you want the King to live."
The man leaned forwards and picked up the largest piece with a hand that looked as old as the ages and yet somehow also looked strong.
"See this piece here?" the man asked holding up the largest counter. "This is called the King. Rather apt, I feel. Protect him."
The man who clearly was of magical origin gave Merlin all the information he needed to play the game and it got under way, hesitantly at first while Merlin got used to all the rules and requirements, although the necessity to protect the King wasn't a hard concept to follow- after all, he'd been doing it for almost his entire life.
It was quite far through the game when Merlin saw his opening- he was sure his companion hadn't seen the move yet, but it was the man's go, and Merlin tried so hard to not make it obvious that he'd seen a move. Even after all these years, Merlin still hadn't learned well to hide his emotions. Arthur still teased him about it, even as old men.
"Your move, old man," Merlin said to his companion.
And there it was- the man hadn't seen the move, and Merlin knew he'd won.
He took the move.
The man stood up suddenly, and the ancient paper-like hands clenched at his sides before deliberately relaxing them and sitting back down.
Merlin had won. It seemed incredible, seeing as he hadn't known the game beforehand, but he was happy, very happy.
The being with him seemed to take it in good grace, or maybe there was no emotion at all, but either way he was determined to get what he wanted.
"Well done, but this isn't the end of it," he said and Merlin's delight disappeared at once. "I can give you anything. Anything. I can give you gold, possessions, respect, women, anything you want. It's Arthur's time, and I want him."
Merlin shook his head emphatically. "No. What I want is his life. It's not his time yet, as it isn't mine."
The man stood up suddenly, his dusty robes swirling around him dramatically and Merlin felt him in his mind and suddenly, he knew who this man- being- was, and he was speaking directly into his mind but certainly had no magic about him. Well, only the magic that bound life and death together.
This being was Death, and Merlin had not only cheated Death all of his life, and cheated Death of Arthur's life, but he'd just cheated him face-to-face once again.
With an ear-piercing screech and a miniature tornado right in front of Merlin, Death disappeared in a whirl leaving no trace that he'd ever been there.
"What?-" Merlin whispered to himself, not quite believing, but he then instantly whirled about and with magic boosting his energy, he ran almost the entire way back to Camelot and burst into Arthur's chambers.
He strode up to the curtain separating the bed from the rest of the room and yanked it aside, breathless.
There was Arthur, sitting in bed quite happily and being tended by Gwen who was sitting on the bed next to him feeding her husband some grapes from the fruit bowl.
"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed in a strong voice. "What are you doing?"
"Just checking up on you Sire," Merlin said, still out of breath. His body wasn't what it used to be.
"Yes, well you can see I'm being well looked after!" Arthur said, admonishing him.
Gwen nudged Arthur in the ribs which made him give her a rather bashful expression. He looked back at Merlin and his face became softer. "Thank you Merlin for looking after me. I don't know what you did, but Gwen said that you stalked out of the castle with such intent..." he trailed off, looking to Merlin for an answer.
Merlin did his best to merely give a sage and mysterious look back, smirking as he did. But he couldn't hold it for long- his smirk turned into a genuine and relieved smile for his friend, completely destroying the sage look he was trying to muster.
Arthur sighed but smiled at his old friend. The problem with Merlin being a sorcerer instead of a servant meant that he could now not answer the King if he so chose. Of course, Arthur thought, not that Merlin ever had done what he was told.
That night, Merlin dreamt of Death the man. And how he, Merlin, had beaten him.