They had been riding for one and half a day now. Mab hadn't budged a slightly bit. She still was unconscious and Merlin realised that they were running out of time. So he kept Rupert trotting even knowing how exhausted the horse must be.
And once again it felt like a déjà vu.
The weight of an injured woman leaning against him, the rocking motion of the hooves and the urge to be faster than the sunset, it seemed all too familiar to him.
When it had been Nimue, who had been at deadly peril, it all had been absolutely clear to him. He had known what to do then. He had known what was right and he had known for what purpose.
Now he wasn't so sure about this anymore. He didn't know if it was righteous to save Mab. He didn't know if he was betraying his late aunt and all other victims of her cruelness by sparing her life. He didn't even know if he really wanted to help her or if he even could. All he knew was that he had to act fast enough to have the slightest bit of a chance.
So they were passing forests, meadows, runnels and streams.
It was early in the evening when the coast came into their sight. He hoped they would reach the shore before the tides would turn. The sun was not set yet and the silhouette of a monastery stood out against the horizon.
One of the monks had told him once it had been built shortly after the Romans had taken over Christianity as their state religion roughly two hundred years ago. The island had been known for its mystical relations so the small church had been constructed on the old pagan grove.
People had always been subject to changes in their ways of life while they kept to certain traditions of old. When the Romans had come they had brought new gods too, but they always had had the decency to honor the residing gods and spirits, the genii loci, when they came somewhere. But still more and more the new ways of life had crept into the hearts of the people.
And slowly their new religions had crept into the places of the old religions by the time then- worst of all Christianity. Even though Britain did not belong to the Roman Empire anymore, Christianity had stayed and had persuaded even more people for its ideas.
He could imagine how threatening these developments must have seemed to Mab. But she had tried to use the weakness of Britain's people. She had tried to gain some profit out of their everlasting quarrels hoping someday, pagans would get the upper hand. She even had tried to bring the Picts on her side, the Prydyn or Cruithne living in the northern mountain regions, but then they also had uproared against the other pagan British high kings like Vortigern.
So he had invited some Saxon leaders, Hengist and Horsa, to let them handle his problems. But one problem had been chasing the other and Uther had shown up. But all of that was history now.
His concern was obvious. He was bringing Mab to Avalon – a now Christian place. He was hoping if not for the mystical properties of the island himself, that at least the monks there would possess the practical skills to treat her injuries.
They were reaching the coast but Merlin realized that he had to wait for at least two more hours until the tides would turn.
Slowly he got of the horse with his patient, trying not to hurt her. He couldn't be sure if she would feel something, for she was still unconscious. He wondered how this could be. After all she was a much more mighty being than he himself or any other human ever had been.
But she had been weakened before their confrontation. And it seemed fire was not exactly an element she could easily cope with despite wielding it as a weapon. The truss, that had hit her, also must have been heavy…
Merlin hoped she had no inner injuries, but looking at her pale face told him otherwise. A small line of blood was dripping down her mouth. Usually she could transform her body at her own will, but now she seemed stuck in a very seriously injured and dying – almost human like – body. He could only hope that there was still time left to safe this dying form of her. He would be dead by now, if the truss had hit him.
He had no other choice but to wait. Sir Rupert was trying to distract him a little, but he still felt uneasy.
"Why is it that I care? Why?", Merlin asked.
"Because you're bonded.", the horse pointed out. Merlin frowned.
"Not by blood, but by magic.", the horse went on.
But Merlin wasn't satisfied: "Rupert her magic is fading away, so there is no bond left in my opinion."
"Well then it must be, because your heart knows it would be false to let her die."
Merlin sighed, if it only would be that easy. After two restless hours the tide began to turn.
Mabs state seemed to have worsened. She was feverish hot by now. Terrible burns were covering her torso. But still she did not move nor show any other sign of life.
Merlin placed both of them back on the horses back. The crescent moon had risen in the dark night sky. And Avalon was hard to see in the darkness, but Rupert always found a save passage through the mud flat.
Entering through the gates of the monastery he was calling for Father Abbot, who had always helped him, even though Merlin was a heathen.
It took a few moments but then the old man appeared and some other brothers were following him.
"Gracious Lord – Merlin you are back!", he called.
"Father it is important – I need the nuns and their healing skills-"
"What happened this time to Nimue?", Merlin was interrupted by the priest.
For a moment he was at a loss for words…
"Father this time it is not Nimue, but another… … another friend."
Abbot frowned but waved his hand. One of the monks left to gather the nuns. Two others were slowly taking Mab as Merlin handed her down. Their countenance dropped apparently, when they caught a look at her burnings. Quickly they were taking her towards the nuns' section.
Merlin explained the cause of Mabs injuries to Abbot, but he left out the details about the major role she had played in the whole situation. The priest visibly shocked by the news of a burning Camelot forgot his questions about Nimue. Instead he led Merlin to the guest chambers.
"Well I suppose you need to rest now.", he said.
But Merlin made an effort to follow him out of the room immediately.
"I have to look after her.", he muttered.
"But that would be of no use, my friend.", the priest said. "All we can do now is pray!"
"I… I don't think that would help her. I mean, it may do for others but not her."
Merlin sighed when he saw Abott's puzzled expression and returned to his room.
In his chamber he sat on the small pallet, thinking about what he could and should do. Maybe father Abbot was right and he should rest a while. But he couldn't find any sleep. The night was passing.
Haunted by blurring visions and dreams he was tossing and turning on the bed.
When the dawn was rising he had not slept at all. So he got up and made his way to the nuns' quarters. While crossing the chapel he could hear the monks' Morning Prayer.
"…Blessed is he that considereth the poor; the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble. The Lord will preserve him, and keep him alive; and he shall be blessed upon the earth: and thou wilt not deliver him unto the will of his enemies. The Lord will strengthen him upon the bed of languishing: thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness…",
Merlin shook his head, as if the grace of a foreign god could help Mab in any way. But he hoped the herbs and medicine would do it. When he reached the door, he halted for a moment taking a deep breath. Then he entered.
One nun was looking up at him. She obviously had spent the whole night next to Mabs bed. With a firm expression on her face she greeted him.
"Your friend is not out of the woods yet.", she explained.
"We have dressed her wounds with common tormentil and brew of flaxseed."
She made a gesture showing him the rest of herbs, they would use later on her new bandages. A mug was standing on the table next to the bed.
"Silverweed and purple loosestrife is what we use for the brew we are instilling.", the nun continued following his eyes.
"One of her ribs is broken; the bleeding of her mouth apparently came from somewhere inside, where the broken bones must have pierced something."
Merlin was sighing deeply as he heard this. The burnings were a matter serious enough. But the inner bleedings were nothing those nuns could treat. They could only hope that her body regained some strength and was able to cure itself.
"Your tea will it help her?", he asked.
The woman nodded. "It usually weakens bleedings.", she assured him.
Exhausted Merlin was rubbing his temples looking down on Mab. Her upper body was covered in bandages. Her face was bluish white and beads of perspiration were dripping from her forehead. He leaned in closer. Softly he touched her skin. Despite her looking as pale as someone dead would, she was still very hot. Feverish, her breathing more than shallow. At least she was still breathing. Did she actually need to? He had never paid attention.
He couldn't bear the sight. It reminded him all too much of Nimue.
He turned away and left the room.
On the corridor father Abbot caught up with him. "Merlin will you accompany me?", he asked, "We are having breakfast now." Even though Merlin felt no hunger he agreed.
They had some bread with honey and fresh water. After Merlin had finished, the priest began to speak.
"Now tell me Merlin; where is Nimue?" He was watching him with curiosity.
But Merlin just shrugged. What could he tell him? He couldn't say that he had lost her on behalf of the woman his brothers and sisters were treating. And how should he tell the priest about his own involvement. A look to father Abbot told him, that the man was still waiting for an answer. So he simply said: "She left me."
"That is all? How can this be; I mean why would she leave you?", Abbot asked.
Merlin sighed again searching for the right words.
"Well she made a contract and did not tell me its conditions until it was too late."
Hearing this father Abbot was looking even more puzzled at him. But before he could continue his questioning, Merlin stood up.
"I haven't slept last night… please let me retire now."
Quickly he made his way out. Passing the cross-coat he saw a messenger arriving. He could imagine what important news he would bring, but yet he paused a moment to listen.
"…They say it all burned down. One of Mordreds troops must have set the fire. Now the kingdoms are in uproar. Some of his former knights are claiming Arthur's throne. Others form new allies; some lords are even declaring the autonomy of their reigns. Worst of all- the Saxons are claiming more land now. It is rumored that Ælle, Eomær, Woden and Cerdic are gathering around Oisc the son of Hengist in Cantia. Soon we will have another civil war …"
Merlin had heard enough. He never had thought that Arthurs dead would cause so much trouble. Was that the reason why Mab had been so eager in trying to kill him?
When there were more Saxon chieftains arriving, it meant that they would use the weakness of a Britain without a leader by invading this land. Saxons were heathens, but would they follow the Old Ways?