Author's Note: Alright folks, this is the first of the last seven chapters. I hope that I haven't made this story too long, but I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it. Also, I was wondering what you all thought about me continuing writing stories within this story arc. I feel a little iffy about this chapter so please REVIEW and let me know what you think. Thanks!
"Nan," Awen cried, bursting through her grandmother's hut door. "Nan, I did it! Can you believe it? I finally did it!"
She was happier than she had ever been in her entire life. With her new abilities Awen knew that she might be able to take a different path in her life than she had previously planned. Perhaps that life might even involve Merlin though there would have to be an entirely awkward conversation between herself and the young man once he was feeling better. Awen didn't know whether she was more giddy or more nervous for their talk, but felt ready for it no matter what Merlin's response was.
Her Nan's back was turned to her and though Awen couldn't see what her grandmother was doing she knew something was wrong. Her happiness had suddenly been overpowered by a foreboding and worry so strong that Awen had to immediately shut the emotions out lest they overwhelm her.
"Nan," Awen whispered nervously. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"You said you've mastered your gifts," Nan said softly, turning to face her, eyes void of expression.
"Yes," Awen replied. "I did—"
"Good," her grandmother interrupted tersely. "Here is your first chance to prove yourself."
She stepped aside and Awen let out a quiet gasp of horror at the sight of the young king of Camelot. She had noticed the blood first as it pooled beneath the young man's limp form and smeared the sheets. It wasn't until she examined him closer that she became aware of the ragged wound in his chest.
Arthur's breathing was harsh and rattling, stopping and starting again with no discernible pattern. Awen pressed her finger against the underside of his throat and felt his pulse become faster and more irregular even as she held it there.
"Nan," Awen gasped, staring back at her grandmother in horror. "What happened?"
"I cannot say for sure," Nan whispered, staring at the young man with something akin to pity in her eyes. "I felt something in his life force, Awen. Something so evil I cannot describe it. I tried to pull him back, but it was too late. The damage had already been done. I attempted to heal him myself, dear one, but I am afraid the wound goes deeper than the flesh. It goes to the very heart of him. You are his only hope now."
"There seems to be a lot of that lately," Awen whispered, trying to use wit to calm her nerves. The effort failed miserably.
She knelt beside the dying man and pressed her hands just beneath his heart, grimacing as the warmth of his blood seeped between her fingers.
"I can do this," she whispered to herself. "I was born to do this."
Closing her eyes, she opened her spirit to the king's pain and could feel his soul withering. She had little time. After taking a moment to clear her head, Awen began to chant the words she had been taught since childhood. At first, she was terrified to realize that they weren't working, but refused to give into the fear writhing within her belly and before long she felt her power flowing from within her and into the injured man beside her.
She was aware of Arthur's heart thudding at tremendous speed as the magic reached him before slowing to a healthy thrum as the wounds were knit. Tiny tendrils of power wound themselves deeper into the young man and Awen suddenly cried out as her magic ran into something dark and horribly cold.
Dimly she felt Nan grasp her shoulder with a weathered hand and add her strength and power to Awen's own. Her magic suddenly burst into flame and Awen could sense the dark wall wither in the light of her and Nan's combined strength. She watched it burn and couldn't help but find a strange satisfaction in her ability to devour such an abomination.
With a sudden and renewed strength Awen felt Arthur's consciousness seethe up from where it had been trapped. She lifted her hands from his chest and immediately their connection was broken. It was barely a moment later that the young king jerked awake, raising up and gasping for breath, looking about him with wide eyes.
"Arthur," she said softly, attempting to sooth him. "Arthur, it's alright. You're safe now."
"Merlin," the young king gasped, looking at her with tortured eyes. "The darkness has Merlin, Awen. I couldn't stop it from taking him. I…I failed him."
"You failed no one," Nan grunted at him. "You were dying, King of Camelot. It was never your duty to save him."
"You don't understand," Arthur cried, clearly still feeling the terror and pain of what had occurred. "I have to go back there and get him. You should have seen what that thing did to him! Please, Awen. Send me back…I have to go back."
Awen could tell that the young man was becoming more agitated by the second and while she had healed the majority of the damage there was still a part of Arthur's soul and body that would have to heal on it's own. The king needed rest and he certainly wasn't going to sleep if the decision was left up to him. Luckily, Nan had obviously felt the same way for she suddenly turned away from them both and hovered over the hearth for a moment. Awen could see her sprinkle something into the steaming water she had poured and when Nan brought the cup over Awen could smell the slightly tangy and bitter odor of Gysglyd berries.
Awen had been on the receiving end of these berries only a few times in her life, but they had knocked her out so completely that when she had finally woke she discovered she had been deeply asleep for three days. Arthur wouldn't be very pleased when he regained his wits, but Awen would deal with that when the time came. For now, the young man needed to heal and he wasn't going to do so while agitated and nervous.
"This will take you back," Nan lied, handing the cup to Arthur. "Make sure you drink it all or else it won't work."
Arthur ripped the cup from Nan's grasp as if he were a man dying of thirst. He swallowed the entire contents of the cup in a single, large gulp despite the heat of the water and it was only after he'd finished that Arthur realized something wasn't entirely right.
"This tasted different," Arthur whispered, voice already beginning to slur. "You've done something. What did you do?"
He tried to stand but Awen pushed him down again with a firm hand. He fought her but the drug had already taken a hold of him and Awen barely had to apply pressure to keep him seated. Only a moment later the king flopped back on the bed, eyes flickering slowly, before finally closing all together.
"Men," Nan muttered, taking the cup from Arthur's limp hand before it clattered to the floor. "They think they are so smart and yet we manage to fool them time and time again."
"This isn't something to be proud of Nan," Awen admonished softly. "We tricked him and I doubt he'll forget it."
"Perhaps he will and perhaps he won't," Nan said shrugging. "None of this matters at the moment. You have one more life to save, little one. I would suggest you get to it quickly before the damage is too great."
"I can heal him the same way I did Arthur," Awen answered, feeling confident in her abilities.
"You cannot," Nan said, shaking her head. "The wounds the two men suffered are entirely different, Awen. The King of Camelot suffered wounds of the flesh because he maintained a strong connection to reality through me. "
"How is Merlin different," Awen asked, frowning.
"The warlock has no connection to this world," Nan replied. "The darkness keeps him lost within his own mind."
"Why is that important?"
"It is a strategy any military leader knows," Nan whispered. "I imagine that if we woke young Arthur he would tell you something very similar to what I am about to. Answer me this, dear one. If you were commanding an army against a foe with powerful allies, what would be your first goal?"
"I would want to alienate them," Awen said immediately, recalling battle lessons her mother had taught her so many years earlier.
"Yes, and after that?"
"Break them," Awen answered, throat clenching as she realized the implications of her words. "I would want to break their will to fight. Nan, the darkness is trying to keep Merlin from fighting it."
"I think so," the old woman said sadly. "His soul and his magic are being ripped to pieces, Awen. The pain of such a thing would be enough to crumble any man's resistance, but with Arthur being ripped away from him so cruelly I wonder just how long he has left."
"So what do I do," Awen asked. "How do I help him?"
"You must meet the devil in his own field, Awen. Only there will you truly be able to vanquish him."
"Can you guide me," Awen whispered.
"This is your destiny alone, child. I will be your connection as I was Arthurs, but I can do no more."
"I suppose we should get started then," Awen said firmly, staring at the hollowed face of her warlock.
Nan handed her granddaughter another cup of the potion Arthur had used to find his way into Merlin's mind. Awen stared at it for a moment before smiling dangerously at her grandmother.
"Let the battle begin," she said fiercely, before draining the cup.
Awen felt her eyes slide closed and when she opened them again she was in the barren landscape of Merlin's haunted mind. She could feel the remnants of the good spirit that had once resided there and she wept at how desolate a creature that man had become.
Her head snapped up when she heard a distant scream and without even thinking of what she was doing started sprinting in the direction of the cry. The earth, though it was not real, cracked and strained beneath her feet and Awen couldn't help but wonder if the whole floor would collapse when Merlin finally succumbed to the darkness.
Not that she was going to let that happen. The screams became louder and louder still and suddenly she was upon them, almost running headlong into the creature torturing the man she loved.
It turned to stare at her impassively as if trying to gauge her threat level. It's lips slowly curved away from it's teeth in a snarl and it took a cautious step closer to Merlin, holding the handle of wickedly curved blade that was currently taking up residence in the warlock's ribcage.
"You will leave him alone," she said confidently, her voice chilling even to her own ears.
"I have no intention of doing any such thing," the darkness whispered, shifting into a smug faced Arthur. "Merlin and I are having such great fun, together."
He wrenched the blade up and the young man jerked on the table, gurgling harshly in his throat. The warlock tried to escape the biting pressure of the blade by scrabbling weakly away from the gloating Arthur, but the imposter stayed with him, digging the knife deeper as Merlin tried to move.
"Like gutting a fish," Arthur smiled. "No matter how hard it wriggles the blade stays in."
Awen felt like retching, but she held it in. She had to close her senses up tight or else she would have been swept away by the tidal wave of Merlin's pain. She looked at the darkness impassively with cool eyes.
"This ends now," Awen snapped, stepping forward and drawing a smooth, silver sword from the scabbard on her hip.
The blade was a beautiful weapon created in the style of her people. It was not real, of course, but unlike Arthur, Awen knew that she was the master of her own reality. She may be stuck inside Merlin's mind, but as long as she was here she didn't have to play by any rules but her own.
She pushed her power into the blade until it shone with an almost holy light, causing the darkness to draw back from its reach. Awen was strangely satisfied to see a hint of fear enter into the creature's eyes and her confidence grew in response.
"Your magic is old," the Arthur imposter whispered, staring at her in disbelief. "Who are you?"
"I am the last priestess of the Blessed," Awen replied, voice echoing cool and strong. "I am the one who is going to kill you."
"Merlin is too far gone for you to save," fake Arthur hissed at her. "He will be nothing but an empty shell of a man."
"Like hell I will," Merlin rasped, staring at Awen's sword with something like rapture in his eyes.
The fake Arthur twisted the knife cruelly and Merlin rasped out a scream, curling away from the blade.
"You are nothing," the darkness shouted at the young man. "You killed your best friend, boy. You are a murderer."
Awen could see that the words were having a strange effect on the warlock and the young man visibly sagged against the table, guilt mixing with pain.
"Arthur's not dead," Awen called to him, watching as he raised his hollow gaze to hers. "I saved him in time, Merlin. He's not dead. Don't give up on me now."
"He's not dead," Merlin repeated, closing his eyes.
Awen grew concerned when the young man did not open them again, but took comfort that his lips were moving in a steady pattern. He was repeating what she had said to him like a prayer, grasping onto anything he could to keep him fighting.
"Enough of this," Awen snarled, raising her sword. "You will not touch him again."
She sprinted forward with her sword before her like a guiding light and swung her blade in a graceful arc towards the fake Arthur's face. The creature barely had time to lift his own weapon in response to hers, but even as his sword connected with her own Awen was already moving into her next blow.
Whipping the sword down and to the right she freed her blade from his and whirled inhumanly fast to catch him around the middle. Once again the darkness barely countered her deadly thrust in time and Awen grinned. With each thrust of her blinding blade the darkness was forced farther and farther back until it was all he could do to keep her blade from finding purchase within his flesh.
He tried to slither around her but Awen blocked his path, drawing a large cut across his jawline. The creature hissed and clawed at his face as the magic in the blade blackened the skin there before turning it to ash.
Awen was riveted at what her power had done and for a brief second lost her concentration. The darkness took advantage of her moment of weakness and slammed into her attempting to wrestle the blade from her hands even as his teeth sought purchase in the skin of her throat. The sword was kicked away from her and she watched in horror as it clattered to the ground some ten feet away.
The darkness pounced on his opportunity to even the playing field and he attempted to free himself from the tangle of their limbs, but Awen yanked hard on the fake Arthur's leg and he collapsed once more. She lost sight of the sword as the darkness fought to free himself of her and Awen had to hold on with all the strength she had, knowing that if the creature managed to get his hands on her weapon all would be lost.
The creature was stronger than she had expected and without the aid and skill of her blade Awen found herself weakening against his continued onslaught. She tried to grab fake Arthur's collar but as she did so the creature's head whipped around quicker than she had thought possible and sunk his teeth into her hand. Awen cried out and tried to buck him off of her but he held on despite her efforts and before she could really even begin to understand just how she'd lost the fight, his hands were on her throat, squeezing mercilessly.
She could feel her breath being forced from her lungs and dark spots danced lazily across her vision. She struggled uselessly and the darkness laughed at her efforts. Awen's heart was beating frantically and the lazy spots had turned into an angry swarm of black bees.
"You see," he hissed, fingers tightening. "You all have failed and soon I will rid myself of this irksome mortal mind and take my pleasure from your deaths. No one can stop me."
"That's where you are wrong," Merlin rasped from above them.
The creature jerked and suddenly the pressure on Awen's throat loosened allowing her to draw in breath once more. She watched, dazed, as the darkness screeched attempting to pull the sword Merlin had driven into him from his back. Even as he struggled the power in the blade seeped into the darkness and it began to burn from the inside out. Flesh blackened rapidly and the creature howled his rage and pain to the world.
He must have known that its death was imminent for he searched for Merlin even as he began to fall apart. The moment the two locked eyes Awen knew that fake Arthur would do anything it possibly could to take Merlin with him. The creature took a hitching step towards him, but was stopped by Awen gripping his leg tightly and pulling. He crashed to the ground and exploded in a dense cloud of ash.
Suddenly all was quiet and as the ash rained down around them the reality of their victory began to set in. Awen shouted in joy even though it tore her throat to do so, but she found she didn't care.
"We did it," she cried. "Merlin you were brilliant—"
She stopped abruptly when she saw the look on his face. He looked defeated even though he'd saved both of their lives. He looked hollow and grave and his eyes were stagnant pools of blue.
"Merlin," Awen said quietly. "Did you hear what I said? We won."
She touched his shoulder and he blinked up at her, flinching away from her touch. She immediately drew her hand back, but before she could fully retract it Merlin had grabbed her fingers in a death grip.
"Don't," he rasped, eyes fearful. "Don't leave me."
"I'm not going anywhere Merlin," Awen said softly, pulling the young man into her arms. "I won't leave you, I promise."
"Awen," Merlin asked, face buried in the hollow of her throat.
"Yes," the young woman replied, horribly aware of the tension in his shoulders and the way he shook as if horribly cold.
"Can I sleep now?"
"Oh, Merlin," Awen whispered, a stray tear falling across her cheek. "Of course you can sleep now."
The young man went limp in her arms before she'd even finished answering him.
