Prologue: Beyond the Veil
Twenty-two years ago, a creature had been roused by its master from a deep and dreamless slumber to a new place, unfamiliar and ancient. A precipice which marked its world from the next.
A shimmering veil kept the two secluded in a cold and empty world shrouded in thick mist. No sunlight nor starlight alleviated the darkness of their world. But just beyond them, behind a shimmering veil of undulating, multicolored something, lay a different world.
There, the creature watched as night ebbed into the cold grey of a rainy morning. Trees occupied every space not carved into fields or interrupted by strange, geometric piles of wood or brick. Far, far away, strange little creatures moved about. Some with two legs, some with more, every one beating and pulsating with life, blood, magic.
For a while they stood and watched in silence, a quiet far from amicable, but comfortable nonetheless. Natural, if nothing else. They watched the sleeping world together for a long while before the silence was broken.
"You are called Achlys," the master said finally.
Achlys raised its chin and tilted its face to the side. The name sounded correct, yet unfamiliar. Like a jacket, perfectly tailored, but uncomfortably new.
"Achlys," it repeated.
"Do you know what it means?"
"No," Achlys confessed.
The master nodded. "You were just gifted the name. It makes sense that you know not its meaning. Achlys comes from a word meaning mist, or sometimes death."
Achlys turned its head to the side, glancing at the space behind it. The void from whence it came. It, too, was shrouded in mist. Though he knew little, he knew it was a place of death.
"Am I named for this place?" Achlys asked finally.
"Perhaps," the master answered, voice thoughtful. "The mortals call this place Oblivion."
There was a long pause before the master spoke again. "You know, young one, that names have power."
Achlys nodded understanding.
"Do you know who I am, youngling?"
Achlys turned to look at the master more fully. Even in the absence of light, shadows danced across the master's face. Every so often, something piercing and white shone through the shroud of darkness, but never enough to fully glimpse a visage.
"No," Achlys admitted. "I know you are my master, and I know I am to serve you. But I know not who you are."
Another impermeable silence settled over the two. Achlys turned to look back through the barrier at the other world. They stood together, side by side, watching clouds gather before dawn's gentle rays could touch the earth.
"Names have power, Achlys," the master said finally, just as rain began to caress the earth beyond the veil. "You were gifted your name by me, which means it was once mine."
"You were called Achlys?"
"Not really," the master replied, something akin to humor lining his voice. "Many creatures have given me their names. You were one of them, once."
"You are giving mine back to me?"
"No," the master replied. "I have given you a new one."
Achlys was silent for a moment. "Names have power," the creature said finally, echoing its master's words.
"Yes," the master replied. "And yours means more than just death or mist. It carries with it too, perhaps more strongly, the things we associate with death. With oblivion."
Achlys turned once more to glance behind them at the dim, shrouded void. Oblivion seemed apt.
"And what may those be?" Achlys asked.
"Misery. Sorrow."
"Ah," Achlys said, looking out beyond the barrier once more. He didn't feel there was much else to say, and so lapsed into silence again.
"You are to journey there, Achlys," the master told its servant.
"Down there?" Achlys asked, surprised. It narrowed its ruby eyes to look past the diaphanous veil toward what lay beyond. "To the world?"
"Let me show you something, young one," the master said, and waved its hand.
The world beyond the barrier shifted. Rather than a countryside, the two looked on into a little hut. A woman sat on a bed, brown curls pasted against her forehead by a sheen of sweat. Another woman looked on in concern, holding her hand tightly.
A fire burned brightly in a hearth. The bed the woman was sitting on was surrounded by a wreath of bloody towels and empty water buckets. Her companion took a new rag and prodded at the woman's face, only to have her hand smacked away. She gritted her teeth, then yelled as if she had been holding back a scream her whole life.
"She seems to be in pain, master," Achlys commented.
"Yes, Achlys," the master replied. "She is."
"Is she dying?"
"No," the master said, chuckling. "Pain accompanies death often, yes. But it is a companion of life, too."
"She is creating new life?" Achlys asked, watching the woman carefully.
She took in a deep few breaths, nodding to her companion. Her companion shifted, moving toward the end of the bed, keeping a strong hold on the woman's hand.
"Yes," the master replied.
"She must be of powerful magic," Achlys commented. He felt, more than saw, a smile from his master.
"All those who can bear life into the world are. But we must be quiet now, Achlys. We are not the only ones watching."
Achlys looked up and was surprised to see this was correct. The creature had to focus hard to see them, wavering and distorted as they were, like they were hidden under deep water or watching from behind several panes of glass. Strange creatures just like the master, with visages that wavered and disappeared and coalesced like images in smoke.
The woman seemed oblivious or uncaring of their presence while she labored.
"Who are they?" Achlys asked, lowering his voice.
"Others like me," the master said quietly. "But none like you, Achlys."
Achlys shifted slightly, wondering at the meaning of its master's words. It opened its mouth to comment again, but the woman let out a scream.
It was joined by another, small and shrill. The light from the fire grew brighter with a sudden ferocity, then dimmed. Candles that had previously sat cold and unlit on the table or by the bed sprang to life, throwing dancing light and shadows across the walls. Thunder cracked overhead, and the blue-white of lightning flashed through the single window in the small hut.
"By the gods," the woman's companion muttered. But she moved quickly to reach toward the bottom of the bed and gather something there.
And Achlys felt the very energy of the world shift. Settle. It had not changed as the master had commanded before: they both still looked on as the woman breathed deeply, as her companion took something from the bottom of the bed and dragged a soothing cloth across its wriggling frame. But it felt as if the world–the world they watched and the world they occupied–had calmed. Achlys hadn't noticed before the need for a calm, but felt grateful when it came.
"Is it a boy or a girl?" the woman on the bed asked. Her companion took a knife and cut something, shushing the crying bundle in her arms.
"You felt that, did you not, Achlys?" the master commented.
"I felt something, master," Achlys responded in wonderment, "but I do not have a name for what I felt."
"That is Emrys," the master said.
"See for yourself, my dear," the companion replied, wrapping the thing in a thick blanket and handing it over.
"Oh," the woman cooed, taking the bundle from her companion. She untucked the blanket briefly before wrapping it up again and holding the budle tightly against her chest. A tired smile came over her face. "It's a Merlin."
They laughed, and the master turned to Achlys.
"Emrys is a creature of magic and the True Religion," the master told Achlys, who stood at rapt attention, eyes glued to the wriggling bundle.
"You already feel a connection to the boy, do you not?" the master asked. "A pull?"
"Emrys," Achlys murmured. "The woman called it a Merlin."
"That is her name for the child."
"Merlin," Achlys repeated.
"Achlys, look at me now."
Achlys did so and felt–felt bereft as the image beyond the shimmering veil faded, leaving nothing but mist and dim grey light.
"This Emrys–Merlin–is your charge. You are to watch him grow. Follow him through life."
Achlys nodded, thoughts entirely on the boy he just saw.
"You have an important job, Achlys. When the time is right–and I will tell you when–you must take the boy from that world and bring him here."
"Here?" Achlys asked, looking around. Something struck him then, a thought that should have occurred to him long before. "We are… we are far from Avalon, master."
"As far as one can be," the master replied.
"I am to bring him here?" Achlys asked.
"Yes," the master replied, and reached deep into the shadows that cloaked it. From those depths it pulled something shining and bright.
"This blade is called Sephtis," the master said. "Its name, too, carries power."
"Eternal death," Achlys murmured.
"Yes," the master replied. "I would be surprised if you did not remember it."
"Why do I remember?" Achlys asked, watching the blade with trepidation.
"It was the one that felled you long ago," the master replied. "When I came to collect on the bargain you had made with me."
"I was killed with this?" Achlys asked, watching as its master twisted the long knife so its blade pointed toward the master and its hilt toward Achlys.
"You were called home with this," the master corrected. "Sephtis is one of the few blades that could kill something like you once were. It can even kill you as you are now."
Achlys felt too many questions whirling in its mind, but found only one could escape.
"Where would I go, if I were to be pierced by it now?"
"I do not know," the master replied. "And do not wish to learn."
The master pushed the blade forward, pressing the hilt into Achlys's hand.
"You will use this blade to part Emrys from the world he occupies and bring him here, Achlys. You must be swift and certain. Should you hesitate, he will take the opportunity to banish you back here. That is a risk we cannot take."
"You are sending me there now," Achlys said, tearing his gaze away from the wicked blade to look at his master. "Could you not send me back were I to fail?"
"You will not fail," the master intoned. "The cost of sending you to the world is more than you can comprehend, young one. I cannot do so a second time."
"Why am I to bring him here, Master?" Achlys asked, looking around.
"You will find out in due time, Achlys. For now, simply know your task. Follow the boy. And bring him home when I command it."
"And while I watch him grow?"
"Simply be there," the master said. "And be yourself."
"Sorrow, misery, and death," Achlys said, taking the blade.
"Yes, young one. Sorrow, misery, and death."