Emrys…
Merlin's eyes shot open and he held his breath. He listened again for the voice.
The sound of rain hitting the walls outside. An echo of dripping water telling of leaks in the roof above them. The soft hissing of damp condensation from the stones on the crackle of burning embers in the hearth. Wind whistled through trees in the valley. Beyond that, the low roar of waves crashed against the beachheads in the bay, leagues away. Gwaine snored softly on his bedroll. Other than that...there was nothing.
His released a ragged breath and he tried to readjust; attempting to find some measure of comfort on the stone floor. Merlin couldn't remember dreaming of anything before he heard the voice calling out to him, much the way Kilgharrah had first called out. He tried to recall the voice. It was soft and feminine, with almost sleepy, ghost-like quality.
He listened for a while before sleep finally claimed him again.
(*~*~*~*)
They tarried a bit longer than they should have in the abandoned hill fort, waiting for the weather to clear the next morning.
Merlin took the time to explore around the ruins, the voice still echoing in his memory. Other than the ring of small stones inside the courtyard, he found nothing but shadows of the people who used to inhabit the keep.
It was with a stroke of luck, that among those ghosts he found a few books and parchments hidden under rubble. Most of the pages were eaten away by mildew and mice, but inside a metal scroll tube they found themselves a map of the region.
He and Gwaine grinned as they evaluated it. The new path they chose looked like it would actually save them some time. Instead of heading back to the main road, which wound around the southwestern side of the mountains, they planned to keep to a more northerly course. Even in the mountainous region, they could easily find their way to the village with the abbey.
It was late afternoon when they crested a final rise, and Gwaine first spotted the inlet they had to cross to get to the monastery. He paused, his dark eyes narrowed. Merlin came up behind him and stopped.
"Look," Gwaine said, pointing in the distance. The two men saw smoke rising from the remnants of a small hamlet. The wind shifted, and they heard wailing of villagers in shock and mourning.
"We're too late. I should have listened to you yesterday, Gwaine. We should have turned around." The warlock stared at the carnage, guilt plaguing him.
"No...don't think that way. Let's go see if we can help now. There'll be time enough to assign blame later." The men rushed down the hill towards the bridge that would take them to the charred village.
Most of the fires had been extinguished, band the remaining townsfolk eyed the two strangers warily. It was clear that a massacre had taken place. Merlin and Gwaine offered to help where they could, and were directed to the east side of town, where the worst of the carnage had taken place. Amidst the debris, they finally found the remains of the church.
They surveyed the rubble somberly. Suddenly, Gwaine held up his hand. "Shh."
They listened for a few moments, when the knight heard the sound again. A low moan came from the pile of ashes and debris. It didn't take the two men long to find the source near what once was the entrance to the abbey. Quickly, they began to pull off the burnt wood and crumbling stones, and soon uncovered a man underneath.
He was burnt over much of his body; heavy brown robes blackened and threadbare. His facial features looked more like that of a creature, than a man. Merlin gasped when he saw the monk.
"Can you heal him?" Gwaine asked uneasily.
Merlin broke out of his shock and knelt beside the monk. His mind switched into a detached healer mode he had learned from Gaius, over the years.. "If you can hear me, my name is Merlin. I'm going to try to help you. I can try to heal you with magic."
The man opened one eye, the other having been devastated by the flames. "No magic," he whispered roughly, before biting back a scream of pain. He grasped at Merlin's coat. "Are you…from Camelot?" He asked.
Merlin nodded and the dying man continued.
"Ambrosius…dagger… in the tombs… for his heir. To Fa..Father Constans. She didn't…get it. Forged by Angels. She knows…about…his son." The man cried out, thrashing in Merlin's arms. Soon his grip on the warlock's jacket went slack, his hand fell to the ground. A rattling breath escaped him, and he went still.
Merlin snapped his eyes shut. Death like this, was never acceptable in his book. He attempted to wipe away the tears that were forming. He felt Gwaine's steady presence behind him.
"What did he say?" The knight asked softly.
The warlock took a breath to steady himself, and found the place of calm determination that always lifted him through situations like this. "We have to find the tombs." He quickly explained his interpretation of the dying monk's words.
"His heir would be Arthur, then?"
Merlin shrugged, "He also said something about a son."
"Come on then, there's nothing more we can do for him. Let's find the tombs and get out of here, before Morgana comes back."
It didn't take the two men long to find the burial chambers, just up the hill behind the monastery. It was far enough out that in the dark Morgana and her barbarians wouldn't have noticed it. So it was left untouched. No one from the village paid the two men any heed as they headed towards it. At the barred entrance, a quick magical word from Merlin let them in.
They cautiously worked their way through the alcoves and stone sarcophagi, searching for the one bearing Father Constans' remains. Halfway down the second hall, Merlin stopped. He felt his body sway slightly, and his eyes lost focus.
"You ok?" Gwaine asked with concern.
Suddenly, Merlin appeared to snap back into himself. "It's this way." He spoke with a surety the knight rarely heard out of his friend. Soon they were in front of the stone coffin they were searching for. After some grunting they managed to push aside the cover. Decay and dust escaped into the air, causing the men to cough and blink. Lying in the coffin was the skeletal remains of Father Constans, and folded in his hands...a dagger.
The blade was of a darkened metal, cast with runes that shone like liquid silver. The hilt, a white opalescence, which Merlin knew instinctively was dragon bone. He stared at the dagger, caught up in rapture. Merlin's eyes glowed, and time slowed around him, as he watched the torchlight dance across the weapon.
"Carnwenhau," the whispered name came to his lips, like that of a long lost friend, from somewhere deep inside his soul. He reached into the coffin to pick up the relic.
As soon as his hand touched it, Merlin heard a soft click, followed by a hissing sound. He looked up, still held in his own space of slowed time, and saw the blocks of stone on the ceiling began to fall. He had a brief moment to realize, if it wasn't for his special ability, the two of them would have already been crushed. He thrust a nearly frozen Gwaine out of the way, as he jumped aside. Midway through his flight, he lost the connection and felt time shift back.
"Bloody Hell!" Gwaine exclaimed, coughing and sputtering against the cloud of dust from the cave in. "What was that?"
Merlin chuckled, "Oh just me, saving your life."
Gwaine looked at Merlin. His eyes narrowed, with brows pinched and mouth in a grimace and then he looked back at where they had been standing. His facial features smoothed out, when he saw the rubble over the sarcophagus, and all he could say was, "Oh...but what about..."
Merlin held up the dagger and they both smiled.