Chapter 52: Secrets of the Holy Grail


"This is is hardly ideal!" Bertilak snapped. "The druid girl could've lived, she could have told that damnable Pendragon about the castle of the Fisher King!"

Father Bron scoffed. "You doubt the accuracy and force of a Roman archer?" he said, easing his horse down the ravine.

They had taken a small group of men, thirty in total, swiftly after learning that the red-haired druid had seen a vision of this castle in a place called the Perilous Lands. Leave it to the pagans to come up with a name like that, he thought, combined with their legend; that at the center of the wasteland sat a castle, and inside that, was an ancient sorcerer, still alive after centuries.

That Bertilak held any weight to these stories was troubling to him; he had been so sure that he had led his young protégé successfully away from these heathen ideas. Then again, perhaps with being back in his native land, the old ways were starting to sneak in once more.

"I don't doubt the archer's skill." Bertilak said. "I'm simply weary of underestimating these people. Sorcerers here don't die as easily as the witches in Rome do. They're stronger here, more… I don't know, connected to the land, almost. Which is why I know for a fact that Camelot, if they indeed were alerted about the location of the Holy Grail, went through the Impenetrable Forest, not around it, as sure as I am that Merlin is with them. King Arthur too. So, if we go through the Impenetrable Forest, not only do we get the Grail, but we have the opportunity to kill the king and finish this once and for all."

"And Camelot's queen? What of her?" She had seemed a fairly formidable woman, from what Bron could recall.

Bertilak smirked. "I learned a great deal from poor, captured King Bayard. She wasn't a foreign princess, as I had thought previously. She was a serving maid. How she managed to seduce King Arthur into matrimony is beyond me, but her only previous experience in a war room amounts to scrubbing the floors on her hands and knees. She'll fold to us."

Father Bron thought. He had to admit, the revelation about Queen Quinevere was not one he saw coming, and the thought of having the kingdom of Camelot at his mercy was thrilling. When he had spoken to both the pope and the emperor, he had been told that Bron was likely setting in for a several-years long campaign at the best, complete and utter failure at the worst. Now, it was likely to be over in a month, and with it, a likely promotion, and with that, the papacy itself was within reach, surely!

"All the same," Father Bron said, trying to remain in reality. "You'll forgive me if I'm a bit wary of a place called the Impenetrable Forest. Or is it just a trick name, to keep people out?"

"No." Said Bertilak, "It's called that because few who enter into it tend to come back out."

"And why do you think we will be successful?"

"Because," Bertilak said simply, "I know what you want me to say, that the God of your people will protect us. Truth be told, I don't know if He has any sway over a place like this."

Bron wanted to interrupt, the ensure him that God was everywhere, even this damnable island, but Bertilak continued;

"Even so, if we truly want to destroy magic at its root here, then it can't stop at their precious Emrys, their savior. He's only the beginning. To destroy the Old Religion is to destroy the things that even King Uther was too afraid to touch. All this to say," he ended, a self-satisfied grin on his face, "I don't intend to go through the Impenetrable Forest; I intend to burn it to the ground."

XXX

"Merlin."

Merlin turned to Lancelot. Since he emerged from the locked room, Lancelot seemed different. Lighter. More like his old self, Merlin thought.

"In that room," Lancelot said, his voice quiet, so that only Merlin could hear, "There was a sorceress melded into a tree. She said she was betrayed and put there by the Fisher King. She tried to convince me to free her in exchange for my heart's desire. She told me something else, too. She said that one of us will die here."

Merlin froze.

Lancelot grabbed him by the shoulder and made him keep walking down the dark hallway. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Merlin glanced quickly behind him, but none of the other's heard.

"I heard it in the Impenetrable Forest," Merlin admitted. "From the spirit that guards it. I don't see what difference it makes. If I can stop it from happening, then I will. If I can't, what's the use in saying anything?" He shook his head, suddenly feeling very cold. "Knowing the future isn't a gift, Lancelot, it's a curse. "

"She told me that if I set her free, I could save us all." Lancelot said. "She said she would turn back time itself, make it so Arthur never went to search for Emrys, that Rome wouldn't be a threat during our lifetimes, nor would Amata. She said we would all be happy. Happy and alive. And I refused, I followed my orders, my king. Tell me I didn't make a mistake, Merlin."

"You didn't make a mistake." Merlin said firmly. The end of the hall was approaching, and beyond that, a spiral staircase that would take them to the top of the tower. "You passed the test."

"Surely it can't be as black and white as that," said Lancelot.

"No, it's not." Merlin admitted. "But thinking about how things could've been different does nothing, it just makes you insane." He thought of the vision Kilgharrah had shown him; of Morgana in black, Arthur dead. Merlin cursed to live forever. He shuddered. "Trust me."

"There's more going on with you, Merlin, I can tell." Lancelot said after a moment. "I won't press you, but if you want to talk about it, and I come out of this alive, I'll be here."

Merlin smiled in return, and hoped it didn't look as empty as he felt.

They reached the bottom of the tower. The stairs twisted and turned and stretched into the darkness above them.

There was the feeling, the odd sensation that felt like magic, but different, more twisted and mutilated. And powerful. "Up here," Merlin called.

You can feel it too. Morgana said, the magic.

It's strange though. Merlin said, Almost-

Broken. She finished for him.

Exactly. Lancelot said that when he was in that room, he met a sorceress who was trapped inside a tree by the Fisher King. That's not the type of spell that could survive if the person who cast it died.

The legends say that the Fisher King was wounded, and that's why the Perilous Lands are the way they are. It had to have been a terrible injury, one he should've died from unless…

Something else was keeping him alive. Merlin took a deep breath. The entire journey he had hadn't allowed himself to think with any certainty that the Grail was within their grasp, but it was becoming more and more difficult to do. Hope was beginning to build, but still; What if he refuses to give us the Grail? Power aside, he's still had several more lifetimes of training than we have had, and I can only imagine what all those centuries alive would do to someone's mental state.

Well, he is wounded. Morgana answered, pragmatic as ever, And there are more of us than there are of him.

Merlin had to smile at that.

The staircase was damp and musty, without even a sliver of a window to the outside world. They had to run their hands along the wall as they ascended the steep steps and rely wholly on the light of the spheres Merlin and Morgana had generated. It seemed to Merlin that, just when he was sure there couldn't be any more stairs, more were there. When they had approached the castle from the outside, it seemed smaller than their home back in Camelot, and yet Merlin was positive that this tower had more steps than the one that led to his rooms.

At long last, they came to the landing, upon which there was one door.

"Tospringe." Merlin said.

The door opened.

He stepped inside, Arthur just behind him.

This room, he saw, was a stark difference from the stairwell leading to it. The circular room had several massive windows positioned all around the walls.

The room itself was bare, except for a high-backed throne chair that faced away from them, pointed towards the windows and the wasteland of the Perilous Lands below.

Merlin slowly walked around the chair to the front. Sitting in the chair, still as a statue, was an old man, covered in white spiderwebs, as if he hadn't moved in, well. Centuries.

The man's eyes shifted to Merlin, who jumped back in surprise. Steadying himself he said, "You're the Fisher King."

The old man opened his mouth. "I am," his voice was soft and hoarse with disuse. A tarnished crown sat on his head, and dull golden rings were placed around his fingers, too big for his withered, skeletal hands. Perched against the arm of the throne was a rusting trident."And you are Emrys."

"I am."

The Fisher King turned his gaze beyond Merlin. "The Once and Future King and his retinue," he said. Arthur stepped forward to stand next to Merlin.

Arthur bowed. "We're sorry for barging into your kingdom unannounced," he said.

"You didn't." Merlin heard a touch of amusement in the old man's voice. "I've been waiting for hundreds of years for you both."

"You knew we were coming?" Merlin asked.

"The prophecy that foretold your shared destiny is as old as the land of Albion itself." The Fisher King stated simply. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you sought me out."

"Then what was with all the traps?" Gwaine asked, shouldering his way past Leon.

"Consider it a test of your worthiness." The Fisher King replied. "One that you clearly passed."

"One of my men is below the tower," Arthur said, "I can't-"

"He won't come to harm." The Fisher King assured him.

Arthur nodded. Lancelot, remaining behind them with the other knights, spoke up. "There was a sorceress trapped in a tree in a room below. I had to kill her. Was that part of your tests too?"

"Laudine." The Fisher king said. He closed his eyes. "She tried to take this kingdom from me, when we were younger. I trapped her, I cursed her, and I tied myself to this land so that it could never be taken from me. Now, look at it. As broken as its king." The Fisher King opened his eyes again. "I know why you're here, of course. You want what everyone wants but no one understands. The secret to immortality."

Morgana explained; "Albion faces invasion from the Roman Empire. They'll use the Grail to wipe out magic from the land forever. We just want to prevent them from getting it first, we don't want it for ourselves."

"I'll give it to you." The Fisher King said. "On one condition."

"Name it." Merlin said.

"I want you to kill me."

Merlin blinked in surprise, hesitating. He had killed before, and often. But only under a direct threat; it had never been like this.

"How?" he asked, stalling. "You've clearly used it on yourself, you're immortal."

"I'll walk you through it. I only need someone more powerful than I."

"And you're sure?" Merlin asked.

The Fisher King regarded him solemnly. "I have been sure for centuries," he explained. Careful of your namesake, Emrys. He poke inside Merlin's head. What appears as a gift is a curse.

Believe me. Merlin replied, I don't want immortality.

Then you should understand why I cannot continue like this. Everyday is one of agony and my kingdom burns as a result of these old war wounds. Everyone I loved is gone. It's a half-life.

"Fine." Merlin said aloud. "I'll do it."

Slowly, the Fisher King reached into his robes, and withdrew a smooth golden cup, the sides smooth and unadorned, but tapered into an elaborately ornate base that sat on four small legs. And familiar.

Terribly, terribly familiar.

"That's not possible." Merlin said quickly. "We're looking for the Holy Grail."

The Fisher King made a strange coughing, wheezing sound. He was laughing, Merlin realized.

"I'd expect you of all people would understand that things can go by different names, Emrys." The Fisher King's wrinkled hands skittered over the surface of the Grail. No, not the Grail.

"What is he talking about?" Arthur muttered to Merlin.

"The Cup of Life," the Fisher King continued, "is the original, proper name for what you have sought all this time."

"Unbelievable," Merlin said. "All this time searching blindly for something, when I knew what it was all this time." He could have found it easily, knowing what it looked like, having held it in his own two hands.

"You've seen it before?" Arthur asked.

"Remember I saved your life after the Questing Beast?" Merlin explained. He pointed to the Cup. "That is how. I thought the Cup was destroyed when I killed Nimueh."

"You cannot destroy the Cup of Life," the Fisher King explained. "It's as ancient as the world itself, and its magic is as eternal as the promise it makes."

"But we went to the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea." Merlin explained, "We were told he brought it here, that it's a Christian relic."

"Bah," the Fisher King exclaimed distastefully. "Only part of it is true. Joseph of Arimathea did bring a grail to Albion when he first came here, seeking to convert its people. But it had no magic to it. But when he was here he came to me, in an attempt to convert me to his religion. I showed him the Cup of Life. He decided that it was a gift from his God, refusing to understand that it was ours long before he ever set foot here. He took it from me. I let him have his fun for a while, strictly because it amused me. That was my mistake; I didn't understand how dangerous people become when they think they have a right to something that isn't theirs to take."

"But how could you have it now, if Merlin at one point had it?" Arthur asked.

"I am the Cup's keeper." The Fisher King explained, "I can always call it back to me. It spent a few hundred years on the Isle of the Blessed with the High Priests and Priestesses, until Emrys got ahold of it. I called it back to myself shortly thereafter."

"And if I-" Merlin Merlin paused, hating what he was about to say, "kill you, then do i become the keeper?"

"Only if you wish to," the Fisher King said.

"Right." Something else was bothering him, not adding up. "When I had the Cup of Life before, I used it to save Arthur's life when he was on death's door. I had to kill Nimueh to balance the scale of life and death. But when we heard about the so-called Holy Grail, the Romans seemed to believe that it could offer immortality."

Arthur froze. "I'm not…?" his voice trailed off.

"No," said the Fisher King

Arthur relaxed a little.

"The Cup of Life has many uses," the Fisher King explained. "I can tip the scale of life and death in a certain person's favor and save them from certain death, which is what Emrys used it for previously. Or, it can grant immortality." The Fisher King paused and looked at Merlin. "And it can cause someone to be reincarnated in the future."

Merlin's blood went cold.

Arthur is the Once and Future King. What did you think that means? Kilgharrah's words echoed in his skull over and over in a rush like a waterfall.

Merlin. It was Morgana's voice that broke through the cacophony. Are you alright?

Merlin shook himself. Fine.

I don't believe that for a second, she replied, but didn't push further.

"The Cup works the same no matter what," the Fisher King continued, "all that matters is the intent behind it."

Gwaine huffed. "Isn't that convenient."

The Fisher King picked up the Cup, and with shaking arms, held it out. Merlin took it from him, the gold was cool and smooth against the palm of his hands. "Be careful with it, Emrys. I don't think I need to tell you what might happen if it falls into the wrong hands."

Merlin nodded. "I understand," he said. Carefully, he placed the Cup of Life into the bag he carried across his shoulder.

"Now," the Fisher King said, "it's time for you to uphold your end of the bargain." he pointed to Lancelot, whose eyes widened with surprise. "Do you have it?" he asked.

Lancelot went to his pocket, out of which he pulled a chunk of crystal, not unlike what they had seen him standing in the middle of when they had entered the room of his test.

"There was something inside me telling me to pick it up." Lancelot explained. "But it wasn't me, was it? It was you."

The Fisher King nodded.

"Take it," he told Merlin.

Lancelot stepped forward and handed the crystal to Merlin. Before his skin even made contact with the cool stone, he knew that it was powerful magic.

"What is it?" Merlin asked. The crystal was as wide as his thumb was long, and the length of his palm. As he looked into it, the crystal became cloudy, and from the clouds images began to appear.

Merlin tore his eyes away, closing his hand over the surface.

"It's from the Crystal Cave," explained the Fisher King. "The birthplace of magic itself. The crystals can be used to divine the future, as you just guessed, but can do even more than that." The Fisher King squinted at him, "Do you fear learning the future, Emrys?"

"Who wouldn't?" Merlin said back. He hadn't forgotten what Queen Mab had told him, or Kilgharrah either, for that matter. "How am I supposed to use this to kill you?"

"Overpower me." The Fisher King said, as if it were simple. "I'll teach you. But first;" he held out one of his hands to Morgana.

She hesitated, and then, as if dazed, approached the Fisher King.

"The ring on my third finger," he told her, "it's magic. Take it, wear it, and you'll all have safe passage from here once I'm gone."

Morgana nodded, and accepted the ring.

The Fisher King turned back to Merlin, "Now do as I say very carefully."


Next Chapter: What Dreams Will Come (coming 12/17)
Welcome back from the 1 month hiatus, I hope you all had a wonderful November (wish I could say I did but I got bronchitis and then the flu. I truly stay ~winning~.)

1) I hope you appreciated the most obvious plot twist in the history of plot twists!

2) "um actually they need a drop of blood to make them immortal and a spell bla bla blah Sarah that's not how the Cup of Life works." WE'RE WELL PAST THAT BESTIES!

3) So fun fact, the Fisher King actually has a connection to the Holy Grail in Arthurian legends and it's why he's immortal there too.
4) See, I'm a woman, I'm a feminist, but I'm also always going to jump at the opportunity to make the antagonists say sexist things. Don't worry, our beloved queen will get ample opportunity to prove herself in the war room.