The sky grew dark with rain clouds as Leon and Percival rode towards the village of Havenswood in search of Merlin.
The witch Morgana was dead, as Percival reported when he returned to Camelot two days ago—and so was the king.
Leon didn't want to believe that Arthur was gone, but Percival was certain. When he went to the lake of Avalon, he found only one set of footprints leading away from the shoreline, as well as marks in the mud showing that a boat was sent out into the lake. Had Arthur survived, both he and Merlin would have returned already. Avalon was only a few hours' journey on foot from the city, not three days.
The king's death was already announced in court and Guinevere was now sole reigning monarch. But she—as well as Leon, Percival and Gaius—were determined to find Merlin and ask him what happened.
A sickly sweet and acrid odor interrupted Leon's thoughts. He knew that smell: the smell of the dead. But it was stronger than a single body on a pyre; his eyes watered at its strength.
Percival noticed it, too. "That's not normal." They stopped just before the clearing to the village.
"It certainly isn't," Leon responded. He edged his horse into a canter down the hill towards Havenswood. The moment they entered the clearing, it was obvious a battle—or more likely a massacre—recently occurred.
"By the gods, " Leon muttered. Some of the cottages were burned to ash, with damage on many of the neighboring ones. How it stopped from consuming the entire village was a miracle in and of itself.
"Sir," Percival called to him. He gestured towards a long freshly covered mound. Leon's stomach dropped.
"We need to find out what happened immediately," he said. They led their horses towards the cottages. It did not take long to come across a middle aged man coming out of his home. He jumped back at the sight of two knights on horseback, obviously still on edge.
"Heaven and hell, I thought they'd come back," the man muttered.
"Thought who had come back?" Leon asked. "Can you tell us what happened?"
The man rubbed his forehead, his eyes clouding over in recollection. "Saxons, sire," he said. "They were lookin' for a sorcerer."
"A sorcerer?" Leon asked, surprised at where the conversation was headed. "Why?"
"Don't know, sire," the man said. "Guessing revenge for somethin'. Had to be about fifty or so that came yesterday just after dawn. The sorcerer attacked a few of the men in the woods two days ago rescuing one of our village healers, but I think there was more bad blood between them than that."
Two days ago. Right around the time when Merlin could've come through. Was he an unfortunate victim in the onslaught?
"How were they defeated?" Simple farmers couldn't defeat a battle-hardened group that large.
"By magic, sire," he said. "The sorcerer used some kind of shield spell before we all ran. Then he called lightning down from the sky. Most of 'em were killed that way. Not sure how the rest died; I ran for the woods with my wife and two daughters though not before—" he stopped, his voice breaking. "My eldest was shot through with an arrow by one of the beasts."
Leon's heart sank at the man's story. "I am deeply sorry for your loss, good sir."
The man nodded as he used the sleeve of his tunic to wipe the tears from his eyes. "Fifteen people died by their hands but we'd all be lyin' dead if not for him. He brought the Saxons to our doors but he also saved us all from being a pile of rottin' corpses. That pyre over there," he gestured towards the opposite end of the village where a large plume of smoke floated up to the sky, "is all that's left of the bastards."
Leon thought of the sorcerer at Camlann. They sounded one in the same. "Is the man still here?"
"No sire," the man responded. "He left at first light along with our healer. She ended up being a sorceress too, though no one knew until then. Couldn't say where they were headed."
"What did the he look like?" Leon asked.
"He was a younger man, not older than yourself."
Well, that was unexpected. He turned to Percival. "Not the same sorcerer then."
Percival shook his head. "Or it is and he changed his appearance."
Of course. Leon turned back to the villager. "Can you describe him in more detail?" Leon asked.
He nodded. "He was on the taller end of normal, with raven colored hair, and blue eyes."
Did he hear that correctly? He sounded like he was describing Merlin. His mind was playing tricks on him. Merlin wasn't the only man to have that complexion or build and he was certainly not a deadly sorcerer such as this one.
"Any other features that stood out?" Leon said.
"Not really, sir," the man said. "He looked like an average enough man. Was quite on the thin side, not the knightly type such as yourself."
He felt quite unsettled as the description sounded more and more like their friend. But how to know for certain? Leon thought back on how Merlin looked, trying to come up with any other distinguishing attributes. Suddenly, he remembered something that would answer the question once and for all.
"Did he wear a scarf? Red or blue in color?" Merlin nearly always wore that scarf of his, so much so that he and the others often joked with him that he'd been born with one around his neck.
The man pondered a moment and then nodded. "Why, yes, sir, he did! Color as red as your cape there."
Leon's mouth opened in shock. No. No, it couldn't be. This cannot be true!
"And you're sure you're not mistaken in any way?" Percival said. "Perhaps it was the sorceress that cast the spell instead?"
"As I stand before you, it was him," the man said. "I didn't see what she did; I only heard about that later on. But I saw him call the clouds overhead; I watched as he directed his hand towards the Saxons, and saw as the blinding light cast them down. I'll never forget him as long as I'm this side of death."
Leon drew a hand over his face, waves of disbelief coursing through him. He didn't want to believe any of what this villager said but there was too much damning evidence and no reason for him to lie. Combined with his exact description, the timeline of events and the location of Havenswood in relation to Avalon, it couldn't be anyone else but Merlin.
He couldn't put the two people together in his head: Merlin, the servant and Merlin, the sorcerer.
"I will bring word of this back to Camelot, sir," Leon said, trying not to think about the uncomfortable truth revealed. "Rest assured the king and queen will send assistance in whatever way necessary." He would not let the people know about the king's fate yet— certainly not in the wake of such a tragedy. Word would reach the village soon enough.
"Thank you so much, sire." The man nodded his thanks, his eyes watering anew. Leon bid the villager goodbye and motioned to Percival to head back to the woods.
Percival halted his horse to a stop once they reached the ridgeline on the edge of the village. "So. Do you think the man he described was our Merlin?"
"Yes, " Leon said. "As much as I wish it wasn't true." The realization dawned on him as gradual as a candle lighting up a dark room. Merlin's trip to Avalon, a center of ancient magic, made more sense now, and scattered memories flickered across his mind. "How many times has Merlin miraculously escaped death while with us over the years?"
"I just assumed he was an extremely lucky fellow," Percival said. "Couldn't comprehend him ever having magic—especially not being as close to the king as he was. The thought never even crossed my mind."
"Nor mine," Leon said. "Perhaps we should've been more discerning." Leon thought back on a few of the more remarkable episodes of Merlin's "luck. "He should've immediately died when he was attacked by the Dorocha, yet he managed to keep breathing when no one else survived an attack. And when we took back Camelot from Morgana both times, he somehow evaded serious injury despite the heavily armed soldiers."
They had often teased him of conveniently hiding when the battles were intense, yet he always insisted that he stay at Arthur's side no matter what, despite being untrained in the ways of battle. It made more sense now; he wasn't hiding but fighting with magic.
"And that mission to rescue the queen from The Dark Tower," Percival continued. "He was the one who got us out of those damned woods, kept us from going in circles for eternity." He shook his head. "In hindsight, I should've questioned it then, but at the time I was just thankful we didn't rot there."
"We were blind," Leon said. "We chose not to see it." Because I only ever thought him a humble servant. Loyal and brave, but a servant nonetheless.
"There's something else," Percival let out a heavy breath. "If Merlin was that sorcerer at Camlann and the one who came here, then he and that Dragoon fellow are the same person."
Leon hadn't put that together, and yet another revelation occurred to him. "He was the sorcerer who killed Uther." He didn't want to believe the words as he uttered them.
"Yes, but Gaius said Dragoon was there to heal him and that Uther was too far gone to be saved even by magic," Percival said. "Knowing what I do now, I don't believe he killed him on purpose. This is Merlin we're talking about. He's only ever thought of everyone before himself—even Uther, who would've had him killed on the spot if he'd known."
"Maybe he isn't as magnanimous as he's led us to believe," Leon said. He couldn't help but feel betrayed at his new identity. "Why had he knowingly risked discovery especially when Uther was alive? There must be a reason beyond just loyalty to Arthur and Camelot. No, there's something more behind it." Magic caused more harm in his experience than good. It tore lives apart—including his own. "I'll be forever grateful for the times he saved us but the fact still remains that he's a sorcerer. And from the looks of it, an extremely powerful one. Such people are not to be trusted."
Percival nodded slowly but Leon could tell from the look on his face that he did not agree. "What do we do now? Should we try and see if we can catch up with him on the road?"
"No," Leon said. "We need to let the queen know about the attack here—and about Merlin's secret. Let her decide how we should continue."
"But Leon," Percival said. "He's our friend. Shouldn't we—"
"We'll leave it up to the queen," Leon interrupted. He wasn't entirely certain how he would react if he came face to face with him now. "Let's head back." He kicked his horse into a gallop, as if that would help him forget the truth.
Guinevere watched as the last member of the Council exited the room. She took a shaky breath. Only Gaius remained behind, standing stoically next to her. She was thankful for his presence—one of the only friendly faces left in her life now.
"I think that could've gone better," she said.
Gaius looked to be contemplating what to say next. "It was to be expected, all things considered. I remember a very similar meeting when Uther passed."
"Back then, they knew the kingdom would be ruled by Arthur. Not by a former servant." She voiced the doubts that she read on each of the noble's faces. "They've never truly felt comfortable with me as Queen. Even less so now." She looked down at the ring on her finger—the only vestige left of her marriage. "And I cannot say I blame them."
Gaius put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Do not doubt your ability to lead this kingdom, Your Highness. You are more capable than you give yourself credit for."
"Thank you, Gaius." It helped that someone continued to have faith in her, even if she doubted it herself. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to closet herself away from the responsibility and burden of ruling a kingdom alone. The emptiness within her heart threatened to consume her but she did not have the luxury to spend time mourning.
Camelot came first, always.
The chamber doors opened, breaking her maudlin thoughts. In strode Sir Leon and Sir Percival and for the briefest of moments, hope filled her. Arthur was gone—that much she knew—but her best friend was still missing. She glanced behind them, half hoping to see that ever familiar mop of dark hair.
Leon and Percival bowed. "Your Highness," Leon said. The look in his eyes made whatever hope she had evaporate quickly. "We have some unfortunate news to report."
"What is it?" she asked. Please, don't let Merlin be dead too!
"While searching for Merlin, we discovered the village of Havenswood was attacked by a rogue group of Saxons. They were searching for the sorcerer from Camlann."
She knew who that sorcerer was; Gaius had all but confirmed her suspicions. "Did they find him?"
Leon and Percival exchanged glances and by theIr hesitance, she surmised that they too now knew the truth, though she tensed at the thought of how.
Leon picked up the story. "Regarding the sorcerer, my lady..." he trailed off. "He's someone we all know very well."
"It was Merlin," she said, matter-of-factly, not wishing to prolong the inevitable. "What happened to him?"Gaius tensed next to her, likely hesitant to hear what might come next.
Leon looked surprised at her reaction. "He's still alive, your Highness. Much of the village was spared due to his actions and the Saxons are no longer a threat."
Tears of relief clouded her vision. "I'm thankful to hear that." He was safe and she was grateful for his courage, once again saving the lives of so many.
Leon nodded once but wore a mask of confusion. "Your Highness, you don't seem surprised by Merlin and his...powers."
Guinevere quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and continued. "I've had suspicions for awhile, but mostly at Camlann, when I saw him on the mountain," she said. "I don't know why, but I just knew."
"And it does not bother you?" Leon asked. " He kept this from us for years." She heard the hurt and betrayal in his words.
"I understand his need for secrecy," she said. "Uther would've had him killed and Arthur…" she shook her head. Did Merlin tell him before he died? "Arthur was still hesitant about his feelings towards magic. He was more lenient than Uther but I am not sure how he would come to terms with his closest friend being a powerful warlock. I'm guessing his reaction would be similar to yours."
Leon tensed. "He has magic, Guinevere. And after I heard the villager's tale of just how much power he does have, it leaves me unsettled."
"Not all who use it are like Morgana, Leon," Guinevere said. Leon's feelings towards sorcery had long been influenced by Uther. "Without him, she would be here on the throne."
Leon looked away, clearly struggling. "I understand, Your Highness. But I can't see him in the same way. He's a completely different person than the man I thought I knew."
Guinevere sighed. She put her hand on his arm. "Remember who he has always been—selfless, kind and wholeheartedly brave. Think about what he's done for Camelot—and for us all." And what he tried to do for Arthur. It hurt knowing that Merlin had watched Arthur die, and that he was now suffering in his grief alone.
Leon nodded but she knew it would be something he would continue to battle with. "Yes, your Highness."
She removed her hand. "Do you know where he is now?"
He shook his head. "Only that he left Havenswood with their village healer, who apparently also was a sorceress in disguise."
That intrigued her for a moment and Gaius raised an eyebrow at the last part. She wondered why he traveled with a stranger but knew such questions would not be answered. He was not coming back to Camelot, which saddened her greatly.
"Do you wish us to continue to search for him?" Leon asked.
Guinevere shook her head. "As much as I want him to return to us here, he must feel a reason to stay away." She suspected he felt guilty for failing to save Arthur, among a myriad of other things. And for a moment she envied him—envied that he could run away and choose to avoid a place filled with broken promises of a future never to come. "We will leave him to come to the decision to return on his own."
"Yes, your Highness. Is there anything else you wish for us to do?"
Guinevere thought back to the attack on the village. "Organize a contingent of knights to collect some food and supplies from around the city for the people of Havenswood. I will make sure the merchants and farmers who give are reimbursed. And I will need a patrol sent in each direction around Camelot to make sure there are no other rogue groups of Saxons terrorizing our citizens."
"Understood. Percival and I will work on that immediately." He and Percival bowed and exited the chamber.
Guinevere sighed, exhaustion taking over. The morning had been busy and hellish and all she wanted was a few moments' peace with her sorrow. She looked to Gaius, who had remained silent the entire time. He was grieving in his own way too.
"Do you think I made the right decision? Regarding Merlin?" she asked.
Gaius nodded. "When I had said goodbye to him in the woods, I felt that it would be for the last time. I am certain he believes his time here is done." His voice was low and broken and she could tell that he was fighting to maintain his stoic composure.
Gaius' grief was the final bit that drove Guinevere to tears. The thought of never seeing Merlin again combined with Arthur's death was suddenly too much. It's as if he died too.
"Oh Gaius, how are we to go on?"
He brought her into a much needed hug just as he had a lifetime ago when she had been just a servant. "I don't know, your Highness," he said, "but we will go on because we must."
