A/N - Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you are liking this story. For those of you who pointed out the spelling of Kilgharrah's name - I actually did look for a spelling and found Kilgara on IMDB, but I much prefer the spelling 'Kilgharrah' and have changed it throughout the story. I don't know if IMDB has changed it's spelling yet or not as I looked for the spelling when I first decided to write this, which was only a few days after The Last Dragon Lord aired.
Moral Measure
Chapter Two
As the sun dipped low and was about to set beyond the distant horizon, the sky was awash with deep hues of orange and red. The mood it set was solemn; it was too easy to compare the colors with the fires that had raged night after night, taking so many of their number. The bodies of the dead - at least those that could be found - were laid out atop a huge funeral pyre in the very same clearing that the knights of Camelot had faced the dragon. Every soul who was able to stand and walk was gathered before the structure that had been erected during the course of the day using fence posts and hay bundles, or what ever other materials could be scrounged from the destruction of the city. The structure was enormous - it needed to be, in order to hold nearly a hundred bodies that had to be cremated. Twenty men had been placed around the sides of the rectangular pyre to light it evenly when the word was given.
The raised dais used by the royal family at tournaments had been brought to the clearing and placed at the head of the pyre well back from what would be a roaring blaze in a few minutes. Upon the dais stood the king, Arthur, Gaius, a few of the remaining knights and scattered gentry. The only servants were that of the royal family themselves, standing behind their masters. The rest of the people of Camelot stood along the sides of the pyre. The men designated to light the funeral pyre held burning torches aloft that were as long as jousting lances ready to insert them into the pyre after the eulogy that was to be given by the king himself.
Once the clearing had quieted except for the occasional cry from a baby, the king stepped forward on the dais and addressed the people gathered in a booming voice that easily carried across the gathered throng.
"People of Camelot! These last days have been tremendously difficult for all of you and for your kingdom. You have seen loved ones fall and your city leveled by the evil that is magic, but Camelot has once again persevered. This day will forever mark the day when the last dragon perished at the hands of good men. Your prince, Arthur, has slain this monster and Camelot will never again feel the fires of its evil scourge. We must be ever-vigilant, however, for magic still exists in this world. We have paid a heavy price for this knowledge. As your king, I vow to you that I will not rest until every source of magic is ferreted out and wiped from the earth forever. I swear this to you on the fires of your dead."
That was the signal and the fires of the pyre were lit. No one said a word. There were no cheers or applause as the people has shown the previous night when Arthur spoke of valor and sacrifice. There were only tears and wails from the friends and families of the fallen. Soon the roaring of the flames were the only sound that could be heard. The heat from the huge fire lambasted the gathered crowd and they began to move back further to escape the burning heat.
Arthur turned his head to look at his father and saw a vengeful glint reflected in the monarch's eyes. A small movement from behind him caused him to turn his head further. Merlin had moved back as far as he could, hidden in the deep shadows cast by the setting sun, but the light from the fire illuminated his features. Tears flowed freely down the young man's face as his eyes reflected the deepest sorrow. The contrast between his father and his servant was so stunning that it stilled the young prince's tongue. Arthur had a very bad feeling about what the days to come would hold based on his father's pronouncement. The people of Camelot had suffered so much over the last week. He was certain that they could not withstand a witch-hunt the likes of which had been seen twenty years ago. There could not be another Great Purge.
Over the next three days Merlin hardly slept. He had withstood a mild lecture from Gaius the evening after the funeral service about using magic out in the open. Gaius' words echoed in his mind every time he decided to use it to help in the recovery efforts.
"Merlin, did you not hear what Uther said? He spoke this way back during the Great Purge. I have seen this single-minded determination before and he means what he says. He will execute anyone who he even suspects of using magic. He will not wait for evidence. He will act and save his regrets for later. You must promise me that you will not use magic! Merlin, please you must listen to me."
Merlin had nodded wearily to the old physician and headed for bed only to be up before the sun the next morning. He took Arthur at his word and allowed the prince to fend for himself as he continued working throughout Camelot to clean up and repair the damage. He spent less time in the infirmary than he had previously, not wishing to incur another lecture from Gaius. All the time he worked and pushed his body to it's physical limits of endurance and beyond he thought of his father. He thought about how he and Arthur had to leave him there in the forest in order to escape any more of Cendred's men and get back to Camelot with the news of the last Dragon Lord's death. He thought of his mother and how she would feel when she learned of Balinor's death.
Arthur was so busy that he hardly had time to notice Merlin's oddly fevered behavior, but when he caught sight of him working harder than he had ever seen him work before, he would stop and observe the young man from a distance. The prince didn't understand how or why Merlin seemed to be so deeply affected by the destruction and the deaths of the people, and when he saw Gwen one afternoon he broke off from the guards he was giving instructions, to speak with her.
"Hello, Gwen. How are things going in the infirmary?" he asked.
The young woman smiled up at Arthur causing his heart to skip a beat. "Very well actually. Most of the injured have recovered enough to either go home or join in the recovery effort. There are still a few people who are ill or have more serious injuries and will need tending for some time, but we have been able to convert nearly two thirds of the space into emergency shelter for those who have lost their homes."
Arthur nodded his approval. "That's excellent news. Have you seen Merlin lately?"
Gwen frowned for a moment thinking. "I think he is working with the masons on the repairs to the west tower today. That's where he was the last time I saw him. Do you need me to go and find him for you?"
"No, no that's alright. I was just wondering..." Arthur didn't know how to continue his sentence. "I have hardly seen him over the last few days and..." Arthur stopped again trying to decide how to ask about Merlin without sounding inappropriately concerned, but he was in point of fact concerned about his friend. "Does he seem alright to you?" he finally asked.
Gwen smiled at Arthur's uncharacteristic display of flustered speech, and his obvious concern for Merlin. "He is over tired like everyone else, but he is also working exceptionally hard. I understand why you are worried. Sometimes it seems like he is taking the situation to heart, as though this whole thing was his fault. It's ridiculous really, but that is the only reason I can think of for him working every night until nearly dawn and then sleeping for only a few hours before starting all over again."
"So I'm not imagining it. I know that Merlin has a kind heart, but his fervor seems above and beyond what is reasonable."
Gwen looked around and while the people of Camelot had come together and accomplished a great deal over the last three days there was still an enormous amount of destruction facing them everywhere.
"You know, Merlin comes from a small village. He has never seen death and destruction on this scale before. It must be terrifying for him. I have always lived in a large city and have seen much more, but imagine coming from Ealdor and seeing this. The city looks like a battlefield after a fierce campaign."
Arthur looked at Gwen with appreciation. She always seemed to have the right answer to everything. "You know, Gwen, I think you may be right. I hadn't thought of it like that. Merlin must be feeling overwhelmed. To a farm boy from a tiny village that has a population smaller than the number of people who died over the last week and a half, it must seem like the end of the world. He needs to sleep though, whether he admits it or not. I'll have a talk with him as soon as I see him next. He won't do anyone any good if he collapses from exhaustion, and Gaius probably doesn't need another addition to the infirmary."
He wasn't sure when he came to the decision, but when Merlin came home late on the third night after the funeral, he sat down facing Gaius and waited for him to look up.
"Gaius, I'm leaving Camelot."
The shock that registered on Gaius' face only lasted a moment to be quickly replaced with fear. "Were you seen using magic?" the old man asked, in a strangled voice.
"No, Gaius, that's not it at all. I need to lay my father to rest, and then I will go home. I need to see my mother."
Gaius sighed with relief, but his respite only lasted a moment as Merlin's intentions sunk in. "Merlin! We are at war with Cendred. You cannot go back. If they find you..."
"I know, Gaius, but that changes nothing. I will leave in the morning."
"Merlin, by the time you get back to him it will have been six days. Your father will..." Gaius tapered off searching for a delicate way to say what he needed to, but Merlin cut him off.
"My father's body will be exactly where we left it, undisturbed. I made sure of that before we left him. Don't even try to talk me out of this; it is something I must do. I'm his son, Gaius, I have to lay him to rest. My mother has a right to know how he died. She has a right to know that he died saving my life."
Gaius bowed his head in defeat. He knew that Merlin would not be dissuaded from this course of action. "What about Arthur. What will you tell him?"
"I've hardly seen him in the last three days. He'll not even notice I've gone."
Gaius' face took on a stern expression. "Merlin, the clean up of the city is nearing completion. Most of the sick or injured have left the infirmary and gone back to homes if they have them or are staying with friends, relatives and neighbors if not in the emergency shelter. New construction is underway and Arthur will notice your absence. Do you expect me to lie to him for you?"
Merlin sighed. Gaius had a point. "No of course not, I just didn't want to deal with him trying to forbid me from leaving. I'll go and tell him that I leave for Ealdor in the morning."
--- ---
As Merlin predicted Arthur strongly objected to Merlin's plan to travel to Ealdor.
"Merlin, if Cendred's men catch you they will kill you, and I won't be there to protect you this time. No. You cannot go. I forbid it." Arthur stated, in a voice that he obviously considered final, but that didn't have any effect on the young man.
Merlin knew he would encounter resistance and shook his head slightly. "I have asked Gwen to take over my duties until my return. I'm sure you will manage to get along without me for a few more days."
Arthur just stared at Merlin as though he had lost his mind. "Did you not hear me, Merlin? I said I forbid you to leave. And besides, I can not see Gwen drawing me a bath."
That brought a mischievous grin to Merlin's face. "Somehow I think the two of you will figure out the best way to get you bathed."
"Merlin!" Arthur replied, trying and failing to sound scandalous. But his eye also shared that same mischievous glint at the thought.
Merlin laid a hand on Arthur's shoulder and spoke softly. "I need to go home. Take care of yourself, Arthur. Take care of Camelot."
Arthur was so easy to read and Merlin knew that the prince could see, and took note of, his drawn features, the clothes that seemed to hang off his slender frame more loosely than usual, the deep dark circles under his eyes and he used that to his advantage in this instance.
"I don't like this, Merlin, but perhaps this is something that you do need to do. You're working yourself into an early grave here in Camelot, but venturing into Cendred's kingdom was a risky venture at best, so if you insist on going then fine, I'll go with you."
Merlin dropped his hand from Arthur's shoulder and shook his head decisively. "No, Arthur, you are needed here. I'll not be gone long. I am from Ealdor, remember. If I run afoul of any of Cendred's men I'll simply tell them that I am going home. It would not be a lie."
Merlin carefully left out that in their last encounter with Cendred's men no one had bothered to ask who they were before they attacked. Arthur wasn't fooled for the same thought occurred to him. Merlin could tell that the prince wanted to continue the argument but held his tongue as he saw the determined set to his servant's jaw and the resolve in his eyes. Merlin sighed. He didn't like being at odds with Arthur, not like this.
"Arthur, please try to understand, this is something I have to do."
"But why? Why must you go and see your mother now. Why not a month from now or in the spring, or any other time. What is so urgent that you need to travel through Cendred's kingdom right now?"
Arthur was digging his heels in and Merlin knew that if he didn't bring this to a conclusion right now he could well end up in a cell 'for his own protection'. That wouldn't stop him from leaving naturally, but he would rather it not come to that.
"It's personal, Arthur."
"What is?" the prince demanded, beginning to loose his temper.
"I need to get away from here, Arthur!"
Merlin was beginning to feel a little desperate. This was precisely why he hadn't wanted to mention any of this to Arthur. The desperation seeped into his voice and Arthur mistook it's meaning.
"I can't stay here any longer. I've tried, I really have. You don't understand, and I can't explain it to you. I'm leaving in the morning, Arthur. I have to. Please I'm asking you as a friend - don't try to stop me. This is something I need to do."
--- ---
Arthur studied his servant's face for a moment. He looked on the verge of tears, which unsettled the young prince. He had never seen Merlin behave this way. He remembered what Gwen said about Merlin never seeing this kind of death and destruction having come from a small village. He thought about how hard Merlin was working compared with the rest of Camelot to clean up and repair the damage done in the attacks. He knew that he could simply throw Merlin into a cell, but without provocation he feared what it would do to his servant. He was so close to some sort of emotional breakdown. Arthur didn't like it, but he came to a decision.
"I'll give you four days to return, Merlin. Any longer than that and I will come looking for you."
"You do realize that it takes more than a day to get to Ealdor?" Merlin replied, a bit sarcastically.
"Merlin, you can get there in one day if you leave at first light and travel straight through. I don't like this, but it is clear that you will simply ignore my order to stay here. I'll make sure you have one of the strongest and fastest horses in the stable. If I can't stop you and I can't go with you then the least I can do is make sure you have what you need to return safely."
The relief that washed over the young man's face was startling and for some reason it unsettled Arthur even more. "Thank you, Arthur." Merlin said, as he turned once again to leave.
Arthur watched him as he reached for the door and on an impulse he stepped over to the young man and placed a hand on his shoulder stopping him. When Merlin turned around, Arthur saw the unshed tears glistening in his servant's eyes, and the prince got a terrible feeling in his gut that he might never see Merlin again. Arthur drew the young man closer draping his arm over the thin shoulders. "Four days, Merlin. You come back to us in four days."
Merlin was so startled by Arthur's physical display that he could only nod. After a moment he cleared his throat and repeated, "Four days." Then he turned and left quickly.
--- ---
True to his word Arthur had risen early and had the stable master prepare one of the finest horses in the royal stable for Merlin. The young man came out to the main courtyard and was surprised to see Arthur up and standing there with the horse ready for his departure. The sun was just rising over the distant hills casting long early morning shadows across the deserted courtyard.
"Arthur! You didn't need to see me off."
Arthur patted the horse and pointed to the scabbard strapped to the saddle on the left side. "Look I know that you are hopeless with a sword, but you need to have something to defend yourself if necessary. I considered sending a guard with you..." Merlin blanched at that thought and his expression was not lost on Arthur who continued, "... but that would only single you out as a foreigner and make you a target. Move quickly through Cendred's kingdom and keep your eyes peeled for his men. If you see them, you hide or you run. I mean it, Merlin. You wouldn't stand a chance against trained soldiers."
"I'll be careful, and I'll see you in four days." Merlin said, as he mounted the horse.
As Merlin rode out of the city gates, Arthur watched him go - a knot in the pit of his stomach.
Merlin made straight for the place where he and Arthur were attacked by Cendred's men. His father's body was protected by a spell that Merlin had cast as they rode out towards Camelot. None but Merlin himself would be able to see Balinor as he lay on the forest floor, lifeless. Knowing that Arthur would make good on his promise to come looking for Merlin he rode hard all day and arrived in that clearing as the sun hung low in the western sky. Balinor remained as Merlin had predicted, in the same spot, undisturbed by man or beast. He waved his hand and the spell died away revealing the Dragon Lord's body.
He had decided that he would bury his father along side the river cave he had called home. He would have preferred to take Balinor home to Ealdor, but that was just not practical with Cendred's men out and on the prowl. Merlin used magic to lift Balinor's body up onto his horse and he walked guiding the animal to the river. The sun was setting as he came to the cave that his father had called home over the course of Merlin's life.
As the light began to fade from the sky Merlin once again used magic to move a large pile of stones aside to expose the earth underneath. He would have dug the grave with his own hands, but the failing light of the day prevented him from doing so. It took him only a few minutes to magically dig the grave and place his father gently inside. The sun had fully set by the time the young warlock with tears streaming down his face had replaced the dirt and stones creating stone cache grave.
Balinor was the last of the Dragon Lords. Merlin couldn't consider himself a Dragon Lord, not without feeling as though he were replacing his own father. The skill he had inherited was too new and too painful to fully acknowledge.
Balinor needed a fitting headstone. Merlin gazed out over the river now sparkling in the light of the rising moon. Half way across the river almost at the center of the rushing water a large stone protruded up breaking the surface of the water. The currents and eddies of the flowing water had carved out a smooth contour in the rock that resembled the curved wing of a dragon. Looking at it in this light Merlin thought he understood why his father had selected this place for his home.
Even as fatigue sapped his strength, the young warlock focused his mind and his eyes burned golden. He lifted the giant stone from the riverbed and willed it forward. It moved slowly through the air just skimming the surface of the rushing waters as it came closer to shore. The effort of concentration to move the giant stone brought Merlin to his knees, but he never faltered in his resolve to lay his father to rest properly with a fitting marker. Finally as the last of his strength left him the stone settled on the ground past the bank of the river at the head of the grave. The bottom of the stone was caked in river sludge and mud, which worked as a perfect bed for the stone to rest on as it settled onto the rocky ground.
Once the stone had come to rest Merlin closed his eyes and rocked back on his heels utterly spent. After a few minutes he raised his face to the starlit sky allowing the cool evening air to dry the sweat dampening his brow. He breathed slowly and deeply as he sat there knowing that his task was not yet complete. Using magic caused fatigue as surely as working with ones hands did, it was just a matter of scale. The headstone Merlin had plucked from the river would have taken ten strong men, ropes and at least two full size workhorses to move. He felt the strain on his mind and heart but much to his surprise he could feel a well of magical energy residing deep down, untapped and ready to use.
It seemed odd to the young warlock that using so much magic could actually make his magic stronger. His logical mind wanted to believe that the use of magic would deplete his strength, and yet the more he used it, the more his magical strength seemed to grow. The same however did not hold true for his physical strength. That had nearly reached its end. He found it hard to rise up from the ground where he knelt as every muscle in his body protested the movement. But, rise he did, and he walked up to the grave looking at the headstone and it's placement. He saw the mud and sludge and wondered if the stone would move once it dried up. He concentrated once again, focusing his mind on the base of the headstone. His eyes glowed golden once more and the mud dried and became hard. The headstone ground heavily down into the earth, finally settled into its permanent resting place.
Moving around to the front of the stone, Merlin looked at the rock in the moonlight. He focused on the image he'd seen before in the stone. He allowed it to fill his mind, visualizing the minutest detail. He had spent enough time with Kilgharrah that without realizing it he found himself envisioning the great dragon in the stone adorning Balinor's grave. Kilgharrah was the dragon that linked father and son together, being the last dragon Balinor had spoken to and the first dragon that Merlin had spoken to. In speaking to Kilgharrah as a brother Merlin had inherited his father's gift and his magic had grown to a new depth. He could feel his father's spirit standing there beside him in the moonlight as the vision of Kilgharrah filled the young warlock's mind. Merlin's eyes grew brighter gold than they ever had and the vision from his mind was etched into the stone, perfectly matching the natural contour of the rock.
'It is a fitting grave, my son.' Balinor's voice sounded in Merlin's heart as his eyes faded back to blue, before the young warlock dropped to his knees and wept.
Merlin slept in his father's home, retiring to the safety of the cave when his tears had dried, and his body could take no more. When dawn came and he woke, he knew it was almost mid-morning by the position of the sun. He would have liked to have been awake earlier, but his body needed the sleep desperately. He took some time to look around his father's cave. This is the place the man had called home for so many years and Merlin wanted to know what this place was to Balinor. He wanted to try and look at it through his father's eyes. Aside from the mundane necessities of daily living, the cave was nearly barren. It seemed such a sad existence for a man who had committed no crime and a feeling of righteous indignation swelled in his heart for his father against Uther. It wasn't the first time that he had thought ill of the king of Camelot. It wasn't the first time the young man had struggled with the desire to allow the king to die, and yet he had saved him on more than one occasion.
There was nothing here that spoke of Balinor as the man that he was which disappointed Merlin. He wanted to find some remnant of his father's life that he could hold on to, but it was just a cave used as a home for a broken man. Merlin sat down heavily against the stone wall of the cave and felt the rocks behind him move slightly. Turning curiously he saw that a smooth stone sitting in the wall was loose. He pulled at the stone's edges and it came away from the wall easily. The stone was covering a depression in the rock and inside Merlin found what would become one of his most prized treasures.
Deep in the recess of the wall was a leather-bound book. When he pulled it out and looked inside he found pages and pages of writing in Balinor's hand. It was not so much a journal but a book of his father's thoughts and beliefs, his teachings; there were spells and incantations from the old religion - prayers are what his father called them. There was some explanation of what the old religion meant and what it had taught Balinor throughout his life. There were several pages dedicated to forgiveness and acceptance. This startled Merlin considering how angry his father was when he had first met the man. He had every right to be angry, after the way he had been treated, but his behavior was in direct contrast to what his father had written in this book.
Merlin also found a carving lovingly crafted of a woman's face in shale. It was the likeness of his mother, Hunith. The shale was strong and yet delicate and Merlin couldn't fathom how Balinor had managed to carve the stone to his design without breaking it. It was a truly amazing piece of work and the young man held it reverently in his hands. The carving reflected how she appeared as a young woman. It was how Merlin remembered her when he was a small boy. After a moment he looked around and picked up an old piece of leather and carefully wrapped the shale carving up to protect it. He would give this to his mother.
End Chapter Two