As per usual at this time of year, school is back in and that means I'm probably not going to be on here as much as I have been recently. Especially because most of the chapters from hereon in are only partially blocked out. I've got the framework down for, ooh, about the next 7 chapters, but I'm expecting it'll take at least 10 to wrap this story up. I'm sorry in advance for making you wait so long for the ending, and thank you all for following so patiently! I hope you enjoy the latest chapter, and I am hoping I'll be able to get back on here and writing sooner than anticipated :)
Chapter 25
"I miss the old, enchanted little boat that used to sit here, willing to ferry you across the lake without asking for payment." Merlin gripes at the old cloaked man, who waits expectantly with his palm outstretched. "This is robbery! A gold coin to take a decrepit boat to a wyvern infested island."
The two of them spent the last day trekking through the valley and the White Mountains to reach this shore, where they knew the ferryman and the boat would be waiting for them, to lead them to the Isle of the Blessed. But even with this knowledge, it is still rather irksome to have to pay a mysterious man for a ride across.
Morgana rolls her eyes. "Get out of the way, Merlin." She steps forward with the payment, pressing it into the man's hand. "You know where we wish to go," she tells him cryptically. He nods and silently gestures for the two of them to board the small rowboat.
Once the two sorcerers are settled in, the ferryman climbs on. The boat immediately departs from shore, needing no push from physical oars. The cloaked man is silent for a time, then turns to examine his passengers. "I remember you. Both of you. You who came with the wounded woman, to tear the veil. And you, who came with the prince to repair it." He scrutinizes the two of them, narrowing his eyes. "What an interesting pair. Yet, not all is as it seems with you, hmm." A statement, not a question.
Merlin growls in the back of his throat, while Morgana snaps, "I don't believe I paid you to ask questions."
The old man bows his head ever so slightly, resumes his position facing the direction in which they are traveling. The fog is thick, now. They can barely see past the edge of the boat. An eerie silence is cast over them as it slowly cuts through the waters. But they refuse to break it, to discuss any of this in front of the ferryman, who seems to have somehow been able to perceive that something is off with the two of them. Odds are he is harmless, but who knows, truly, who is on your side and who isn't. The two of them know it better than anyone.
Minutes crawl by, seeming like hours. Not a word has been spoken. Morgana is beginning to feel restless, she can sense that the Isle is coming up, they are getting closer. It is the Heart of the Old Religion, it was her home, the center of all she has become. And, there are... other emotional connections she has to the Isle, that she does not want to face right now.
Merlin catches a repetitive motion out of the corner of his eye, glances over to see Morgana bouncing her leg up and down in agitation. "What's wrong?"
She doesn't even spare him a look. Only shakes her head. Not now. He nods in understanding, even though she can't see it.
Abruptly, the mist thins and the towers of the Isle are looming over them. Even though Merlin and Morgana have been here numerous times, they can't help but gape up in awe of the ancient beauty of the place. But the majesty of the moment is quickly killed when they hear a reptilian cry and see a dark shape winging past one of the spires.
Soon the little boat pulls up alongside the shore, coming to an automatic stop. The cloaked ferryman turns and nods slowly at his, indicating that they are to disembark the vessel. The two sorcerers do so, and watch the small boat and its mysterious ferry master retreat into the distance, returning to the mist.
A screech splits through the air, and they look around warily. So far, nothing, but it likely won't stay this way for long.
Morgana growls, "Let's go get this over with." And she marches toward the ruined castle, with a somewhat confused Merlin following close behind.
They reach the altar room without incident. The vast area is lit faintly by the fading light of the sun shining through the mist. It has an eerie quality as the towering spires loom over them, casting long shadows which stretch across the ground.
Morgana stops suddenly, takes a step backward and pulls in a sharp breath through her teeth.
"What's wrong?" he asks worriedly. Her face is contorted with sadness, anger, confusion. She is in turmoil about something, and he is becoming genuinely concerned about her. "You can tell me," he adds quietly. "I promise I'll be there for you, this time."
Her voice drops low as she speaks, her eyes flicking down to the ground. "This is the last place I saw my sister. She wanted me to sacrifice her life so that we could tear open the Veil, unleash the Dorocha on Camelot." She gives a quiet, harsh laugh. "I didn't want to. But she was in so much pain, and she wanted so badly for me to achieve what we had set out to do, take over Camelot and bring back magic. So I agreed." She bows her head away from him, but with that motion he notices the sheen of tears over her eyes. "I didn't know that she had lied to me. I thought she was always on my side, and she was, in a way, but she used me, Merlin, and I don't know what to feel anymore. But I miss her, because she was my sister and she cared for me, and I cared for her. We went through a lot together. And now I feel like I'm betraying her, by abandoning our cause..."
Her voice trails off, and Merlin remains silent. "I know it's silly," her voice is barely above a whisper now, "and you probably hate me for feeling that way, but-"
"Morgana, I wouldn't... Could never hate you, especially over someone so dear to your heart," he interrupts.
Her head snaps up, and she blinks at him, startled. "But... I don't understand. You hated me before all this happened, did you not?"
"That wasn't you. Not really. I hated what you were doing, what you had become. Not you. Never you." He gently places a hand on her shoulder and she cracks the faintest of smiles. "And you're not betraying your sister. Does giving up your quest to take over the throne feel right to you? Does letting love and friendship back into your life feel right?"
She hesitates, then nods in affirmation. "It does now. It's just... I am responsible for her death, and giving everything up now is... is..." She's not entirely sure what it is. Wrong, maybe, but deep down she knows it isn't. "I used to think that, regardless, you had to do whatever you thought to be right and damn the consequences. And I thought that, back then, what I was doing was right." Her face betrays the shame she feels at turning a blind eye to the consequences of her actions. "But I know better now. Everything has changed. There are better ways to achieve what I was trying to accomplish."
He nods. "And that is exactly why you aren't betraying your sister, because you are not doing this out of malice but out of the goodness that you have rediscovered in your heart."
Turning her head to look at him better, she playfully narrows her eyes at him and smirks. "When did you suddenly change from a goofy servant to someone who could speak so wisely?"
"Well, you know, this soul exchange business is very disorienting. I'm sure it won't last."
"I have no doubt. After all, then Arthur would know for sure that something is wrong with you."
"Gee, thanks."
Chuckling softly, she shifts her gaze from Merlin to one of the corridors leading to other rooms of the old castle. "I think we should move along for the night. It's getting late and personally, I'd prefer to have a roof over my head where the wyverns are less likely to get us."
"Oh, you don't have to worry about them. They won't be getting us any time soon."
Confusion crosses her face, and she gives him a questioning glance. He grins. "Dragonlord, remember?"
Her mouth forms an 'o' shape and she nods. "I didn't realize that applied to wyverns as well. That's convenient. You know, Merlin, maybe I should keep you around after all."
She means it as a joke, but she realizes as the words leave her lips that it sounds like she's either implying something romantic or like she's returned to her dark ways and is going to kidnap him, and she feels her face heat slightly. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she can see that his cheeks have coloured somewhat, as well, and he is staring at his feet instead of sending her the anticipated startled look. It seems that he took it as the former option.
They make their way to the corridor in silence, following it to the end where they enter a small room, which, after a quick once over, seems like it should work nicely as their temporary sleeping area. Merlin dutifully sets out the sleeping rolls, out of habit, she supposes. She starts a fire and whispers a small enchantment to keep it burning. At this point, there will be no problem of the spell sapping her energy, she is more than strong enough to maintain something this simple overnight.
As she pulls some bread and dried meat out of her pack, Merlin comes over and joins her next to the fire. She hands him a piece, and they decide over their meal that first thing tomorrow morning they will go to the center of the Isle, the location of the Rowan Tree.
"I hope this will be somewhat easier than all the rest of the adventures we've gone through, trying to reverse this," Merlin yawns into the back of his hand, climbing onto his bed roll.
Morgana snorts. "With our luck? We'll be stuck here for a week before we find anything."
"Such a positive outlook."
"It's a hard habit to break, after spending a year alone in a hovel with too many people to keep track of out to kill you."
"Good night, Morgana."
She stretches before lying down and curling up on her bed roll. "Good night, Merlin."