Has anyone guessed the name of the new antagonist yet? (probably not, since I haven't given many clues. However, there are a couple in this chapter...as well as the current cover art.

Helen, Megami, Icarus, and Nance: Thank you for the reviews!

Special thanks to Icarus for flow reading, Helen for the tidbits on many things British, and Nance for all the punctuation edits!


The sorcerer studied the bronze piece before him. Its curved shape indicating that it was once part of a larger bowl, or perhaps even a cauldron. All of his careful research, the threats and underhanded dealings...it all led to this cave, in search of a piece that was the key to his future.

For years Alvarr, like many others in the shadowy world of thieves and outlaws, had heard the rumors of the great treasure. It wasn't until his recent dreams, where the cloaked man with the seven-tine antlers of a stag appeared to him, that he even considered such a thing as being real. With an ironic twist, thanks, in part, to the King of Camelot, the sorcerer finally discovered the path that would lead him to the riches he coveted.

The great city of Camelot had been ruled by sorcerers in the past, and although Alvarr initially never wanted the throne for himself, as the dreams continued he found his desires growing. The news that began to spread about the Arthur's long lost cousin finally lit the way. He discovered through a few old stories that when Ambrosius had returned to Camelot, decades before, he gifted his bastard son with the piece Alvarr sought.

It was the key to the tomb he had sent Tristan to locate.

The outlaw stuffed the bronze piece he had been studying into his pack. It was the only thing of value left, among all the odds and ends leftover in the cave, that had once been home to Balinor. Unfortunately, it was not the key piece he wanted. At least, he thought, it served to confirm that what he sought had been in the late dragonlord's possessions at one time.

Alvarr doubted that Merlin, the current heir to the throne had such a treasure; for surely Alvarr would have heard about it. The sorcerer knew though, that even if it was being kept secretly, the warlock wouldn't give up such a treasure without the proper amount of leverage.

Smiling coldly to himself, Alvarr had an inclination about where he might either find the key...or at the very least, obtain a perfect bargaining chip to deal with the man who was rumored to be so powerful.

(*~*~*~*~*)

"So, you are now married, hmm," Merlin commented, as he sat with his mother in the quiet comfort of her personal chambers.

"As are you, it seems, my son," Hunith chuckled softly.

"Are you happy?" He asked quietly.

"I am. He is a good husband...More than I could have hoped for. I have certainly grown to love him more than I thought I would."

He grinned at his mother. "Do you miss Ealdor?" Merlin questioned, knowing how difficult the transition from peasant to noble was for him. He expected his mother may have gone through similar issues.

Hunith nodded, "I do, more than I expected some days, but I wouldn't trade the comforts and family I have gained. Elena is due to have her first child within the next month. As I never had a daughter, nor she a mother, we have become quite close. I have to admit I am quite excited about becoming a grandmother again."

Merlin sat back and smiled; although initially a bit miffed that she had not informed him of her choice to marry, he understood her reasoning. Hunith knew her son would worry about her, and might have delayed his journey north to attend the wedding. She assured him it was a very humble affair and if he had been invited, it would have turned into something much more elaborate due to Merlin's station. "Speaking of children, Arthur and Gwen are going to be parents around, or just after, Midwinter."

Hunith giggled in delight, "Oh how wonderful for them! You must pass on my congratulations."

"I will."

"And what of you and Morgana?" She asked with a teasing smirk. Her face fell when she noticed the way her son looked away.

"I don't think children, other than Aithusa, are in the stars for us," he explained quietly, not wishing to delve into details.

Reading her son's desires in his features, she let it be and they moved on to talking about Aithusa. He told her the stories of her adventures up in Snowdonia. She and Haddy made quite the pair of ruffians with their bickering. He also told her of his daughter's insight and heroism that helped the king, and them all, in the end by carrying the cauldron to the keep. Merlin surprised himself by opening up to his mother about his experiences in the otherworld.

Hunith sat silently listening. Although she admitted out loud, that she was sad to hear that he hadn't met Balinor on the other side.

"Now that I think about it, I'm wondering about that, as well," he admitted.

"I'm sure there is a reason for it," she offered to him with a comforting squeeze of her hand. With her free hand, she fiddled with a torc around her neck.

Merlin's eyebrows rose and he smirked, "Is that a gift from Lord Godwyn?"

"No. It was from your father actually," she started, recalling the day Balinor had given her the piece. It was the day he had asked for her to marry him. She pushed away the sad thoughts, and said mournfully, "but there was nothing to wear it with in Ealdor...it just didn't match my apron."

(*~*~*~*~*)

Sand and rain whipped through the air, pelting everything in it's path. The sky, what they could see of it, was a rolling dark mass of clouds; although they rarely chanced a glance upward to see the ominous formations. Leaning into the wind, tethered together in a line with a rope, they moved forward following Bran. To make matters worse, they were occasionally being assaulted by random hail. Some were the size of a man's fist.

To Cai, it felt as if the weather itself was alive, and the howling wind sounded like a beast in agony. He trusted Bran. He had to, or he was certain they would all soon find themselves lost to the tempest. The rope in front of him offered some slack, and the dark haired knight chanced looking up through the cloth covering both his face and the chainmail coif on his head. A wall of inclement weather obstructed any sign of the man in front of him, though he could see the rope guiding him disappear into the gray mass. Continuing on a few feet, Cai nearly toppled over when he realized why there was less tension.

They had hit the eye of the storm.

He gasped in short-lived relief as he regained his balance. The sound still echoed loudly around where he and Bran now stood. They were soon joined by the others in the party, each one of them experiencing a similar reaction.

Before them stood the stones of the dolmen. Cai realized they were on the side opposite from the entrance of the tomb. Although he couldn't see the doorway itself, it was clearly visible that the storm was emanating from within the sacred burial site.

"We should rest for the moment while we figure out our next move," Bran suggested to the group authoritatively.

The other three knights looked to Cai, who nodded in agreement. Technically, the Earl of Anjou was the newest member of the group of knights he led, but his skills in managing his own estate for years, his title, and his close friendship to the king in the past months, had elevated him to a position of Captain among the elite warriors. At first they were hesitant, especially considering his previous altercation during a patrol, but they soon grew to trust his judgement and leadership. Recently, he overheard one of them comment to another, that he was no longer the dark, brooding presence he had initially been. Cai had secretly smirked at the comment, but offered the others no explanation.

The men untied themselves from the guide rope, and sat down to rest for a bit; discussing their options.

"With that storm coming from the door, we obviously can't go straight in," Cai sighed with finality. "But there doesn't seem to be any other way."

Bran's eyes were held solidly on the stone architrave, as he sat in thought. "When I was a boy," he started softly, "Father took Branwen and me to the continent. I cannot recall where exactly, but we found a tomb...very similar to this one, albeit smaller. The doorway was sealed, but we were playing on the stones above, and a piece broke inward. Branwen sprained her ankle, as she fell through."

Cai nodded thoughtfully, unused to hearing the ancient prince speak of his life, "So, what you are saying, is there may be a way in...from above the chamber?" Bran nodded his affirmation. Without being asked, Cai stood up, and began looking over the area to find a loose, or at least manageably sized, ceiling stone they could try to move.

Bran, and the others, soon joined him in his search. They avoided the main column of the maelstrom spewing from the front. One of the knights called out, having located a place near the wall of the storm, in a straight line back from the entrance and the marker stones. Halfway hidden at the edge, the strong winds had swept away centuries of dirt and rocks over one of the stone ceiling pieces, exposing it to the elements.

After a bit more clearing, the men uncovered the edges. They soon realized they did not possess the tools to move the large slab with them. Cai bit his lip, studying the stones, barely hearing the others as they began bickering about how they were to break through the ceiling. Over the past months, when he traveled with Merlin, the knight had slowly been picking up bits and pieces of the ramblings the warlock would rattle off. Amidst it all were a few spells.

He shrugged to himself. If anything, it couldn't hurt to at least try, he thought. "Áwecgan," He whispered. Cai's hand was positioned over the edge of the stone. At first nothing happened, so he tried again; recalling the lessons of the Old Religion from his mother when he was a child.

"Close your eyes, dear child," she crooned to him sweetly; her honey colored locks framing her face. A comforting hand was placed on his shoulder as she laid butterfly kisses on his mop of dark hair. "You may have your father's looks, but I know you have my gifts..."

Magic was punishable by death in the kingdom, but it didn't stop her from teaching him a few small tricks here and there. "Take a deep breath and connect to the warmth inside you. Don't force it out, allow it to flow, as easy as you breathe."

"Áwecgan," He said again and felt the magic escape with the word. The stone shifted and he was so utterly shocked by the movement, he lost the connection, and watched it fall back into place. "Bring your swords!" He called to the others, a wide grin across his face. The castle blacksmith was going to be seriously upset with him when they returned to Camelot, but in the absence of any other items to use as leverage, the hardened steel blades would have to do.

(*~*~*~*~*)

Arthur walked slowly among the men on the training field. Leon followed his king, just a step behind, and Gilli a pace after the knight. The king took his time inspecting each one of the proud warriors. Yet, something was off. He knew from Leon who was out on patrol and who had been granted days off. Finally, Arthur turned, "Where is Sir Bedivere?"

Leon's eyes scanned the gathered men before he responded, "I don't know, Sire. I haven't seen him. Not since they returned."

"And Loholt?"

The knight tipped his head towards the squires and pages waiting near the edge of the field, "With the others, Sire."

The king bit back a sigh. He had bestowed the knighthood on Bedivere, partly as an old friend, and also, as a favor to Cai. The one-handed man performed admirably up in the north, for which Arthur was extremely thankful, but there was always the underlying tension in the man that spoke of his unpredictability. Other than a brief glimpse of the man, the king had not seen him since the day they returned; but from Percival's account, the journey back had not been pleasant with Bedivere.

One last look at the assembled knights and Arthur nodded his head to Leon. The Knight Commander dismissed the others with a word. "By your leave, Sire, I'll go ask the boy about it."

"Of course," Arthur responded, grateful once again to have Leon's steady presence back at his side. Percival and Hector had taken over the duties well enough, but they were rubbish at intuitively understanding the king's wishes when it came to the knights. Perhaps if Arthur had spent more time working with Percival...the king pushed the thoughts away. He hadn't been on his game the past year with all that occurred. "Gilli, go grab a sword and shield."

"I'm quite possibly going to get hurt, aren't I?" The younger man piped up, noting a gleam in the king's eyes, which usually signaled a desire to prove himself against some unknown thought process.

The cocky grin from the monarch had Leon chuckling, as he left the two men to their own training.

"Loholt," the knight called out as he approached the boy, "where is Sir Bedivere today?"

The blond boy studied the ground, his feet shuffling nervously. "I..uh..."

"Speak up, boy," Leon encouraged.

"I haven't seen him since evening before last, in the stables with you, Sir." He was anxious about speaking with Leon since the conversation the night before last. Loholt still hadn't made his decision, and in truth, wanted to wait for Cai to return before he did. He noticed Leon waiting for him to elaborate. "After speaking with Lord Emyrs, I went to finish my chores. When I got back to the room, his things were gone. I checked the stables and his horse was missing, as well."

The knight pursed his lips. "And you didn't see Bedivere at all yesterday?" He wondered briefly if it had been his interference in the stables that caused Bedivere to run. Leon knew too much had happened over the years for their friendship to resume, as it had been before. He hoped in time he might have been able to break through the toughened shell and find, once again, the man he had thought of as a brother underneath. "Next time, I expect you to inform me, immediately, of something like this. Is that clear?"

Loholt nodded and released the breath he was holding; when he realized he was not going to be harshly punished for not informing the Knight Commander. Although worried about his uncle, he knew he wasn't in a position to try and follow the man. "Lady Lisanor said: I shouldn't worry myself. Sir Cai would sort it out when he returns from patrol," he added, carefully wording his response. There were still other knights and their squires nearby who weren't aware of his relations. For Loholt, it was one more mark towards his decision...the possibility of being able to refer to his mother as such. "I'm sorry, Sir. I promise to do better..."

Leon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, "Enough of that. Bedivere has his own demons he must battle, it seems. Until he or Cai returns, you will act as my page." He motioned to his training gear, indicating that Loholt should take charge of it. "I know you have been called their squire, but there is much more to learn than just running errands, doing chores, and donning armor. For me, the position of squire must be earned. You turn fourteen soon, correct?"

The boy tried to hide his growing smile at the chance the knight was giving him, "Yes, Sir. In less than two weeks."

"Good. At that time, we'll assess your progress and decide where to go from there." Leon began pulling off his gloves, "Gather my equipment, and then meet me in the armory."

He turned and walked away from the teenager, before he allowed himself to grin. He was mildly distressed to hear that Bedivere had gone, but rather thankful that he would have a chance to get to know the boy; without the fear of his Uncle Bedivere's wrath hanging over his head, or Cai's naturally protective nature. He would meet Loholt in the armory, but first he needed to inform Arthur of the missing knight...and the boy's new temporary position.

(*~*~*~*~*)


Next couple of chapters I should be able to start delving more into the myths and offer some of the interesting footnotes and poems again :)

Please leave a comment if you would be so kind!


As an extra thank you to Nance, my beautiful 'proofreader puffin,' for her wonderful work with my horrid punctuation skills:

Original Norwegian Pickled Herring.

Ingredients:

6 sild fillets

3.4 ounces vinegar

1-2 tablespoons sugar or to taste

6-3/4 ounces water

1-1/2 teaspoon whole black pepper

1 medium size sweet onion sliced thin

1 medium size red onion sliced thin

4 bay leaves

1 small sprig fresh dill (diced)(optional)

Preparation:

Place sild fillets in cold water for 30-60 minutes until excess salt is removed. Drain water and dry with paper towels.

Cut fillets at an angle into 3/4 " pieces.

Mix vinegar, sugar and water in a pan and bring to a boil. Chill marinate completely.

Place sliced fillets, onion, bay leaves, dill and whole black pepper in layers into a sanitized glass jar.

Fill jar with marinate to cover fillets and all ingredients. Cover with lid. Place in fridge for 24 hours before serving.

If you find that the marinate is too tart, add sugar.

Keep refrigerated.