Thanks, you guys, for all your great reviews! Please don't be offended if I don't respond to them, 'cos the truth is, I actually have no idea how to. I only created my account a few weeks ago, and I really don't know how to do anything except post chapters; and it took me two and a half hours just to figure that out. Sad, I know. But know that I am grateful for ALL of your reviews, especially CHARLES CHUKU's, who has written about half of the reviews on there. Please keep reviewing! Reviews are the only things that keep an author going! -BregdanAnwealdGitheluec
Merlin's eyes― glowing, pupiless orbs of light the colour of the moon― stared up at nothing as he hissed in a voice quite unlike his own,
"Do you think you can save him?" Galahad was too shocked to respond. Merlin laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "He is beyond your help now, Galahad. Emrys shall never return home."
"Kyannor?" Karanth asked in a wavering voice.
"Oh yes, you were born in my ancestral home, Karanth. You know who I am. I am willing to forgive you, but you must first let Emrys die."
"No! He's my friend; now get out of him!" The girl meant every word, Kyannor saw, and although she was disappointed, it was not altogether a great loss.
"As you wish," said the moon, and Merlin's eyes faded back to the familiar blue.
"K-Karanth?" he whispered, his throat dry. He wasn't looking at her, though.
"He's dreaming," she said to Galahad. "He has a fever." Galahad looked somber.
"We'll get that cup, Karanth, don't worry." She nodded, trying to keep her tears back, when out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure. Karanth whipped around, standing in front of Merlin protectively.
"Who are you?"
"I was summoned."
"W-what? What do you mean?"
"Emrys called to me. He needs my help." The figure moved closer, and Karanth saw it was a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen. He had dark, coarse hair and startlingly blue eyes. He wore a green cloak that blended with the forest.
"He helped me once before. Now I can help him." Galahad stepped in front of Karanth, sword in hand.
"And why should we trust you? We don't even know who you are."
"I know who you are, Sir Galahad. We are both friends of Emrys; he will die if you don't let me help him." The boy held up a finely wrought goblet set with runes.
"The Cup of Life," Karanth breathed.
"It will find you, the dragon said," Galahad recollected. "But who… who are you?"
"My name is Mordred."
oOo
Consciousness crashed over Merlin like a wave. He'd never woken so abruptly. His eyes focussed on the face looming above him… a face he'd seen before…
"It's you," he said, voice rasping in his throat. "You're that Druid boy…"
"Yes," said Karanth. "His name is Mordred. He healed you, with the Cup of Life." Merlin suddenly experienced the strangest sense of déjà vu. The same cup he'd used to save Arthur from the Questing Beast's venom, all those years ago. The same Druid boy he'd helped Morgana save from Uther. The warlock sat up with a groan.
"What are you doing here? We must be miles away from Ascetir…"
"I heard your mind call out, Emrys. You saved me once. I wanted to repay you."
"And you have."
"No, I haven't. Not yet." Something felt strange. Merlin realised he'd never heard Mordred speak before, not out loud, at least.
"I could have let you die. You deserved it, after all. You let my people die." Mordred paused. "But you saved me once, and I haven't forgotten. Still, I will do no more, for now. Except give you this." Mordred held out a piece of parchment, very old and rumpled. "Iseldir told me to give this to you, and these long years I have waited for a chance to do so. Now it is yours, Emrys. I will see you again, I know." And the Druid boy walked off into the night.
He was much more bitter than Merlin remembered. He seemed like he'd had to grow up too fast, which Merlin supposed he had. The sorcerer looked down at the parchment Mordred had given him.
"What does it say?" asked Galahad.
"Hold on, it's written in a very archaic form of the Old Religion's tongue," Merlin replied. "It's something like,
Before it's too late
Return from death's gate
Your shield is my lies
Through which Fate shall rise
but the rest is burned away."
"Sound's like something that stupid dragon would say," muttered the brigand. "Does he ever give anyone a straight answer?"
"If he has, I haven't heard it," laughed Merlin. Galahad laughed too, and pretty soon Karanth was giggling. In a few moments, all three were rolling around on the ground in hysterical fits of laughter.
"What," gasped Merlin, "is so funny?"
"I have no idea," chuckled Karanth, and this of course just made them laugh even more.
Far away, someone else was laughing. But no mirth reached their cold silver eyes.
oOo
It started when Galahad tripped over a vine. At the time, Merlin just helped him to his feet and called him clumsy. But then the warlock felt something pulling at his ankle, and before he knew it he was sprawled on the ground as well.
"What's going on?" he managed before the trees around them exploded.
Plants of every size tried to smother him with leaves. Merlin yelled and the circle of greenery around him burst into flames. He stood panting for a moment, until the next wave of vines, undaunted, attacked him.
Pretty soon, nothing remained around him but dust and ashes. Warily, Merlin glanced around for any threats but found none. There was nothing. No plants.
No people.
Where were Galahad and Karanth? He spun in a circle hoping they were close by, that he could see them struggling with the last of the vines and he could dart in and rescue them and they would all walk out of the forest together―
No such luck.
He was alone.
"Galahad! Karanth!" he called into the lightening woods. "Hello?" He began walking in what he hoped was the right direction. "Guys? Scream if you're not dead!"
Nothing.
Merlin kept walking. They couldn't be too far away, right? Two hours later he wondered how that ludicrously optimistic thought had crept into his head. He'd had to deal with four more vine attacks, two wild animal attacks and one attack from a very misled group of bandits who thought they were ambushing a single unarmed man.
Merlin walked out of the glade where the bandits lay in a dazed pile, very confused about how they'd been beaten, and continued walking. It was possible, he reflected as he ducked under a stray branch, that he'd gone in entirely the wrong direction. They could be on the other side of the forest. Then he looked up and saw that he was walking away from the rising sun.
He was going in the opposite direction of Camelot.
With a groan, he sat down heavily under a large sycamore tree. It was as though some external force was playing with him, making everything that could possibly go wrong do so. Actually, the warlock thought as he glanced at the setting moon, that wasn't far from the truth. But suddenly, the sweet sound of someone singing broke into his thoughts.
The song of the creek in the low creek-bed,
Flowing through the land where few have tread.
And as night drew closer around the sky,
The moon shone bright and the sun did sigh.
O! thou who walk in the land of mists,
Hast thou never heard the song of eternal bliss?
Undying though thou are, power brighter than a star,
Never shalt thou hear it, O mighty Emrys.
The song of the thrush at the break of day,
His voice full of laughter, sweet and gay.
And as day once more conquered the night,
The moon refused to still her light.
O! thou who give thyself to the King,
Hast thou never yet listened to the ages sing?
Thy magic wrapped in lies, unseen by Arthur's eyes,
Never shalt thou hear its music ring.
The song of the maiden, in forest dark,
Her words the sorcerer does not hark.
For as night descends upon the earth,
Emrys awakes, now gone his mirth.
O! thou who find thyself in my grasp,
Hast thou never heard the singer's final gasp?
As her song does fade, does echo in this glade,
Never my song shalt thou clasp.
And Merlin awoke in chains.