Chapter 5. The Loch Avalon Monster
Mid April
Porridge glopped into Merlin's breakfast bowl. From it, steam drifted up and stole away on the cool breeze coming in through the windows. Which was alright, he didn't need to smell it; he was well aware of the taste.
Gaius served himself and plopped into the seat across from him. To Merlin he said, "You don't look sullen this morning."
"You act like I wave my drama on a banner."
"You just wear it on your face, my boy."
Merlin sighed, looking around the cluttered but cozy Physician's Chambers. "Maybe I'm just excited to help people today."
Gaius dug into the slop… er, porridge. One bushy white eyebrow inched its way upwards, and Merlin knew his small lie wouldn't last.
"I guess I've gotten used to waiting. Forridel helped me to understand that worrying about something I couldn't control was wasted stress, and that I had to focus on what I could change."
Gaius dabbed at his lips. "I'm glad you're spending time with her and Leon."
They had been his only friends in this interim, though Percival grinned at him over Gwaine's back sometimes. "They've helped me feel normal."
Gaius put a hand over Merlin's. "You've never been alone, and I will never abandon you."
Comforting, but not comforting enough, Merlin wanted so much more. He forced a grin and a joke that Gaius could believe– "Very sappy for breakfast, Gaius. Keep it up, the porridge could use the sweetness."
Gaius pointed in an Eat it gesture, so Merlin stuffed three large spoonfuls into his mouth. Gaius followed up with a Finish it face, so Merlin conceded and swallowed the rest. Sometimes there was just no arguing with him.
"Now that you have deigned to finish your meal," Gaius started, "we need to head to the Throne Room. We've been summoned for a meeting of the Round Table."
Merlin leapt up and washed his bowl in a magical blink, heart thudding. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"The messenger came before you woke."
He's wearing his nice robes, I should have put it together. Merlin started pacing.
Gaius' caterpillar eyebrow inched upwards, "Gotten used to waiting, have you?"
Merlin groaned, looking down at his clothes. Should he change?
Patiently, Gaius worked through his meal. "We should talk through our options."
"What if he makes me abandon magic, like Uther made you?" He swallowed past a literal lump in his throat. Was he swelling? He looked down at his hands. They looked normal.
"If he does, we can work together to convince him to slowly loosen the restrictions."
"That was your plan with Uther, look how that worked out!"
"Merlin," Gaius said, obviously annoyed with him. But his bowl was empty, so Merlin quickly washed it and shoved it clattering to the edge of the table. It spun slowly before settling.
"I've run through these thoughts a thousand times already, let's just go."
Gaius let out a long breath, but nodded. Painfully slowly, they left. Finally.
Merlin grit his teeth and cursed the frailties of old age. At every doorway, the bottom of every stairwell, and the end of every hallway, impatience gnawed on his ankles.
By the time the two made it to the Throne Room's grand doors, he had enough nervous energy to blast both off of their hinges.
Finally… finally they'll speak to me.
He yearned for forgiveness. He wanted their brotherhood again, and Arthur's trust.
When Gwaine had first discovered him as a dragonlord, he'd made it very clear how much it hurt to be lied to, and how difficult he'd found it to accept. Gwaine may never forgive him for lying to him all over again. And Arthur–
Losing Arthur–
The grief of it physically hurt him. Numbing him, infuriating him, terrifying him– but he couldn't wish to return to the way things were before. He couldn't hide anymore, couldn't bear that either.
Alone in the throne room were Arthur and Gwen, seated squarely facing him. The sides of the round table were empty of knights, and there was a single chair pulled out for Gaius. The last chair– Lancelot's chair, in the past tacitly offered to Merlin– was missing. What did that mean? Was he getting banished from Camelot, or did he have to earn back Arthur's trust or–
"Arthur," he choked. Arthur hadn't looked at him in what felt like an age, but his blue eyes were on Merlin now. This was the Arthur after the pacing and tantrums and before the speeches and crowds. He had the vulnerable Arthur, the one very near a decision.
"Merlin," Arthur returned, "I realize that if I think of you as Iseldir, it lessens the urge to chop off your head."
Arthur winced, proving it was a terrible attempt at a joke. Merlin's head spun, trying to reciprocate.
"Great, I quite like my head where it's at." Not his best joke, but then again Arthur's didn't land either.
Gwen put a hand over Arthur's arm, and tapped a manicured fingernail against his wrist. "I know you wanted this to be a private conversation, but all of the boys are at the servant's door."
Arthur wiped a hand down his face. "Ignore them; I'll deal with them later."
Arthur gestured for Gaius to sit, and as the chair scraped along the ground he said, "The way I see it, I have three options." He pressed his hands onto the Round Table, fingertips going bloodless white. "One, you leave Camelot. Two, you do as Gaius does. Three, I release the ban. All three choices make me nauseous, so we're going to be here until I can stomach one of them."
"Let's start from the top," Gwen said.
"Banishing me," Merlin balked, and he'd feared this choice, but to hear it come from Arthur's mouth felt totally different– "I spend half my time trying to protect you!"
"This doesn't need to be a fight," Gwen started as Gaius rubbed a hand over his brow.
"And do you see what position that puts me in? Do you ever think about that? It is a major issue if anyone else knows what you're up to. By law, which you have apparently forgotten, you could be on a pyre."
"I'd like to see you try it."
"You know I would never!" Arthur slammed his hands on the table, and Gwen gave him a sharp look.
"Perhaps we should move to the second option," said Gaius.
Arthur's flush pinkened, anger there but bridled. And Merlin, despite everything, felt guilty for stirring it. "No, let's talk this out. Say I banish you, Merlin, where do you go?"
He'd want to see his mother, and speak to Kilgharrah. "To the Druids, likely. Iseldir's settlement is growing."
"Say I sent you there, say deciding whether to change the law took years. How long are you willing to wait, before forcing my hand? Before doing something like Morgana did for the Isle?"
Would he even wait? Had he ever actually abstained from magic? He couldn't say that. "Arthur, I still believe one day you'll do right by magic."
Arthur watched Merlin's posture like he would an enemy.
Merlin entered nervous, flighty, and waiting for the axe. Then he'd shifted back, defensive. Now, as Merlin pondered betrayal, he settled into his bones. Balanced stance, square shoulders, strong jaw. This was the man that fought for what he wanted. He'd seen him at the trial, yet dressed as Emrys.
"I would never work against Camelot," Merlin said, "But I also will never again turn my back on the magical community."
Wasn't that a contradiction?
Guinevere summarized. "If we choose to have you leave for a period, you then work to strengthen the magical community in and around Camelot. I wouldn't expect less from you."
"Thank you, Gwen," Merlin answered.
"There's your answer, Arthur," she said. Yes, that was his answer. Merlin said he'd join Iseldir but that support could easily shift to the Isle with enough time. Even so, banishment had always been an unlikely choice. "The second option is to maintain the status quo. The law continues in its current form while you give us time to figure this out. You take a vow like Gaius."
Merlin frowned, "No magic? At all? I couldn't do it, Arthur. It's too much a part of me."
"We could sanction it in special cases," Arthur tried.
"That would make me your pet sorcerer, like King Alined's Trickler," Merlin whispered. "That might be worse."
"We are telling you the options, Merlin," Arthur reiterated, "You are taking them in extreme directions."
"You called Uther back from the grave with the Horn of Cathbhadh just this past year– you continually use magic for your personal gain and wreak havoc. Do you really believe that you are the only one wise enough to use magic properly?"
The Round Table rattled.
"I understand that power is a drug," Arthur grit his teeth. "I watched power corrupt my father a little more every bloody day of my youth, and that was after magic tempted him beyond reason." You and Morgana don't understand everything, you didn't know him like I did.
Spirits, Arthur just wanted to scream at him. Guinevere had spent so long convincing him to stay calm for this but he would break that vow.
Gaius, steel edging his words the only hint of a reprimand, "Merlin, leave the details for later. The core question is: would you be willing to return to previous life with the knowledge that it will be a temporary, transitory, trust-building exercise meant to heal a foundation that has been cracked? But Sire," Gaius turned to him, "I have an alternate plan, something between this and full clemency. I took many years to think this through."
"We're happy to hear it," Guinvere allowed.
"For a period, we legalize magic used to protect life, healing magic and defensive spells. Not throughout the kingdom, but in this city. Only in this citadel if needed."
"That would only be you and Merlin then, Gaius," Guinevere said.
"Not necessarily," he replied. "We could accept other healers to either train under myself, or set up shop in the town."
How was this much different than just lifting the ban altogether?
"It's loudly labeled as temporary, transitory, and trust-building– but not just for you, for everyone in this town. If it fails, you wipe it away, but if it works…" He smiled, "If it works you've built a foundation."
Merlin didn't look happy. Though, he hadn't looked happy yet.
And likely because that would have been too easy, a storm of wind took the chambers and Morgana sprouted from it.
Merlin shouted a warning, Gaius and Guinevere's chairs clattered as they stood, and Arthur pushed in front of his wife. In anticipation, he gripped Excalibur.
The wind calmed and Morgana finished taking in the room. "Arthur, dear," she said, smug like she'd beat him at cards, "haven't you learned that I am part of this team, the original Champions of Camelot, whether you invite me or not?"
The servant's door smashed open, Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, and Leon stumbling over each other, swords drawn.
"Hello, boys," Morgana grinned. "Oh no, were you waiting for me?"
"The whole time," answered Percival.
"Good thing too," Leon added, "Gwaine's 'big M' did appear. You should have been more clear that you meant Morgana."
"He meant Merlin," Elyan said.
"I definitely meant magic," Gwaine balked.
"You need to work on your code words," Percival laughed.
"I see you surrounding me," Morgana said to the semicircle of knights swallowing her back. "Though I must say that was the most amusing trap I've ever pretended to fall into."
"You are not allowed in the walls of Camelot," Arthur grit, "That was the deal."
"Just explain why you're here," Merlin said, weary. "Then get out."
Morgana turned slow towards Merlin, delighted to have everyone's attention. "Oh Merlin, your daughter is in danger! I've done what I can but she needs both of us."
Someone said "what?" and Arthur's vision went white. They had a child? Someone yelled, and in a blink Elyan had broken rank with arm extended, his throwing dagger already piercing Morgana's shoulder.
"Oh," she said, stumbling towards Merlin.
"Surprise, we still hate you," Elyan muttered.
"Don't let her escape!" Guinevere called, mostly to Merlin. Though it came too late because an instant later Morgana's arm snapped outward, grabbed Merlin's, and both disappeared in a burst of wind.
It howled, and while it spun, Morgana's droplets of blood trembled on the stones.
He knew he'd seen something between them, something deeper than what Merlin would admit. A child? What? When?
Leon said, "Sire, are you alright? You look pale."
Gwaine held up his hands, placating, "I think she means the dragon, she's trying to rile you up."
The white dragon?
Gaius gasped, hand to his forehead. "They're still here," he closed his eyes, focusing, and pointed. "He rerouted them. The guest chambers–"
They all looked to Arthur.
"Go," he said.
Merlin looked down the golden length of Morgana's tunnel, which tapered off in the forest outside the castle. That low groaning buzz returned, the sound he'd begun to associate as the sound of Albion's magic, and the sound he was learning to ignore. He reached out, imagining long golden claws on his fingers, and twisted.
When they landed in characterless guest rooms, her mouth popped open in a wide O of surprise.
"Explain yourself," Merlin said. "What's happened to Aithusa?"
She ignored him, tearing Elyan's dagger out and spinning a healing spell. Her muttered curses involved Elyan's soul being bound to a pig's. It was a colorful one; he was impressed.
He shot a message at Gaius, then said aloud, "The knights will be here soon. What did you come here to say?"
"I said Elyan is going to spend his afterlife as a weed in a cow's dung pile."
He rolled his eyes. "Just tell me what's wrong with Aithusa, please."
"Do you want grandchildren?"
She smiled, lifted her skirt above her knee and slipped Elyan's knife into her boot. She very intentionally flashed her thigh at him.
"Why would you think I'd find a bloody knife attractive?"
"Not attractive, am I? What was my question?"
He massaged his temples. Her word games had been less frustrating when he'd been the Dolma. "What about grandchildren?"
Morgana grinned, then Gwen burst in. She whispered quickly to beat the approaching knights, "You will answer for your crimes against me, Morgana. I won't let you escape that."
A thread of magic slung out of Morgana and hit Merlin between the eyes. "You told them we were here?"
Arthur shouted from down the corridor, the knights now only seconds away.
"I told you they would be here soon," Merlin answered.
"Did you hear me?" Gwen growled.
"I'm sure I will answer in whatever way you see fit," Morgana said to Gwen, "but today I have a far bigger problem."
Arthur arrived, "I want you out of the castle, Morgana, or I will order your execution."
"All I want is help," she crossed her arms. "The wyverns are getting too friendly." Then she shot at Merlin, "As I said, do you want grandchildren?"
Aithusa and the wyverns? Was that physically possible? "Is she safe?"
"Perfectly, for now."
Arthur narrowed his eyes at Morgana, "What could possibly make you think that this drama would make us want to help you?"
He should try to get something out of her for this. "You transformed Gwen into a deer. How good are you at transforming someone back into a human?"
Arthur said, "Well, answer me."
"I will be out of your pretty hair in less than a candle wick, I just need a moment more–" Morgana turned back to Merlin. "I can't turn people to and from wyverns, if that's what you're asking."
What? No. "A friend of mine turned himself into a ceasg."
"And you can't turn him back? Hah!"
"Can you change him back?" Merlin stressed.
"Probably," she shrugged.
"Your beast problem for mine then," Merlin struck his hand out. "Shake on it."
"Should I spit on my palm first?" She quipped as she shook, then turned back to Arthur. "We'll be leaving now, so sorry to intrude."
"You are not going unsupervised, that is not what's about to happen," Arthur glared between them all. "I'm so glad that this is a big joke to you two, but we are dealing with the future of Camelot here. Grow up for a moment and remember that I granted you that Isle."
Morgana stiffened, but instead of a verbal lashing she said, "Then the trade continues. I get Merlin's help, and he helps me. What do you want?"
"I want you supervised," Arthur said while crossing his arms. "I'm going with you."
Morgana laughed, and Leon said, "I don't think that's wise, sire. You are the king of Camelot, and you shouldn't walk into a domain where we can't entrust your safety."
"Merlin wants my trust," Arthur puffed, "it would be up to him to defend me. Like usual, supposedly."
Arthur would of course be safe with him, but Merlin looked to Leon to decide. The man was frowning. "I trust Merlin to defend you with his life, sire," he said, "But I don't trust Morgana in the least. This could be a trap and I can't endorse you walking into that."
"Then send me," Elyan said, gripping another long dagger. "I'm happy to keep a close watch on her."
Leon looked to Arthur, "Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival?"
Arthur growled. "Fine." He looked to the three knights, "Watch them, and report back by nightfall. If I don't see the three of you with my own eyes, I'm sending an army."
Gwaine was never ready for teleportation, but at least he didn't puke anymore.
He patted Percival's back, "There, there," he said. "Get it all out."
Percival was dry heaving into a small stone water channel that must snake through the entire Isle. The water had grown stagnant and algae grew along the frozen river, thankfully covering the remnants of Percival's breakfast.
He looked beyond the channel and saw they all were near a pair of ornate gates. Morgana looked through them at a central courtyard, fists propped on her hips. Fishboy stretched in his bubble of floating water.
Gwaine walked over to Elyan, who was lying in a pitiful heap. "Really getting back at Morgana from down there," he said.
Elyan groaned, swallowing what must be bile. "How can you stand being near her?"
"I can't stand being near either of them right now."
"Fine, Gilli," Merlin said, in the middle of an argument it appeared, "we'll see you outside later." He tossed, and Fishboy and his bubble went flying.
"Wasn't I supposed to fix him?"
"He wants to swim first."
Gwaine helped Elyan to his feet, the man still a little green. "So," Gwaine said, "when do we get the grand tour?"
"As soon as Mordred gets here," Morgana said, then wagged her finger. "Play nice, he's just a kid."
Merlin startled, and then the boy– Mordred– walked through the wrought iron gateway to stand at Morgana's elbow.
Merlin looked wary. Kid must be a sorcerer. Gwaine scanned him quickly, seeing a long knife at the kid's belt. Other than that, he seemed like an unassuming kid. Long dark hair that hid his brows, and a simple tunic and trousers. Eyes as blue as the sky, and he ducked them almost immediately to the dirt.
"Mordred, meet the knights of Camelot," Morgana waved, "the dark-skinned one is Elyan, the big one is Percival, and Gwaine is the brat."
"Nice," Gwaine said.
"They get to see the Isle," she continued, "brother-dear's orders. Take them around the safe areas but remember, stay out of that skinny tower."
She held a hand out to Merlin. "And what's that for?" He asked.
"Take us to the ramparts."
Merlin rolled his eyes. "I'll take myself. You can walk." And he blinked away, a breeze the only tell that he'd been there at all.
Morgana huffed and followed, her gust nearly knocking the still nauseous Elyan over.
"So," Elyan wheezed, "how to ditch this kid and get to that tower?"
"It's not anything special," Mordred said. He spoke quietly, either shy or unaccustomed to speaking aloud. "Just something dangerous, I think, from the way she talks about it."
"We've got big swords," Percival said. He'd mostly recovered, from the looks of it, though he took a big gulp from his waterskin and grimaced.
Gwaine gestured, "And it looks like you've got a knife, kid. Want a practical lesson?"
Mordred's eyes brightened, eager, then he shuttered them. Interesting. "We shouldn't. I can show you the courtyard, that's where the others are. We've almost got–"
"How does Merlin know you?" Gwaine interrupted.
Mordred controlled his expression much better this time, which was also fascinating. "Morgana, Emrys, King Arthur and Queen Guinevere helped to sneak me out of Camelot while Uther was still king."
Definitely a sorcerer.
"I'm a Druid, but back then… you know."
Or maybe just a Druid. But probably a sorcerer. Maybe.
"Arthur helped you?" Gwaine nodded as if impressed, "That must have been a huge surprise. Heart of gold, that guy. Real fancy with the red cloak and the big sword too. I bet he'd be happy to know you were doing well, kid."
Mordred gripped his blade's handle, straightening his posture. Emulating Arthur, it seemed, which was just excellent. Arthur had a Druid fanboy.
"He's such a fan of the Knight's Code, you know, bravery and all that. I didn't get it at first," Gwaine shrugged, "but you'd probably be a better knight than me."
"You think he'd…?"
Gwaine gestured at the three of them. "We're all commoners. What's one more?"
The kid looked between them, eyes wide. He stiffened, then nodded. "Let's do it then. Let's see what's in that skinny tower."
Gwaine grinned. Easy as stealing apple pie.
The lake of Avalon glittered blue, enclosed in lush green forest and backed by white-peaked mountains. Mountains which hid Kilgharrah, somewhere.
A gust of wind announced Morgana, and Merlin patted down his hair as the air settled. "I'll tell them to roost in the mountains. That will be far enough from most people."
"As long as they're far away from me," she said, and together they looked out at the expanse. She'd made it sound like this was an urgent problem. Where even were the wyverns? She raised an eyebrow, "Well?"
"Well… are they even here?"
She pointed to their left, "When I chase them off that's where they go."
"I suppose I could just yell in that direction?"
"Don't look at me," she shrugged, "I don't know how your dragonlording works."
Not like I've had any official training either. He made the mental switch to the dragon tongue and bellowed. A cone of magic spun around his face amplifying his voice and blocking most of his vision. He hadn't meant to look through the Veil, had he done it by accident? The hum was louder this time, and nearly staggered him.
"Merlin?"
He shook it off, deliberately pulling back from the Veil. What had that been?
He tried again, and the tongue came easy this time. He ordered any wyverns in the area in a way he hoped couldn't be misinterpreted: Stop attacking this place, roost in the mountains. If he'd missed a few, well, Morgana could always grab him again.
Aithusa flapped towards them from over the lake. After skidding to a stop he was surprised to see her back reaching his ribs. Her leathery skin had begun to flake in spots, forming patches of iridescent white scales.
She huffed at him, petulant.
"What's wrong?" He asked, and she shoved her head into his palm. A vision of playing with a young wyvern overwhelmed him, teasing as it nipped at her– he sputtered. "Aithusa, you are far too young to be flirting with wyverns!"
She ripped away, blew a thick column of flame over the wall, then in a big to-do flew off.
Morgana's shoulders shook. She covered her mouth and failed to hold in a snort.
"You were serious about the Aithusa and the wyverns?"
She snickered, head shaking in a silent No. She pinched her nose, getting a hold of herself, "I remember being that age." She shook herself, "They really were attacking the Isle. Every few days. I just never guessed where she was when I'd been fighting them."
"When she's old enough to defend herself against the adults, then maybe…" He balked at himself. Seriously, was that a thing? Dragon-wyvern cross-breeds?
Morgana chuckled, and leaned against the short stone wall over the lake. "If I'd known it would be that easy for you to banish them, I'd have asked for a few more difficult tasks, like turning a fish into a man."
While she watched the faint cloud of wyverns become fainter, he turned and looked down over the courtyard. He'd been here three times previous, once to fight Nimueh, once as Lancelot sacrificed himself to the Veil, and the last in Morgana's hijacked vision.
The Druids– and there were Druids, more than he'd expected– had piled the broken tower into a large heap of stones. The burned bits of the Rowan tree had been cleared, leaving its stump. The fae circle, once made of square obelisks, had three of its stones standing upright now. The others had been moved, likely to be recreated.
"Do you want help with the restoration?"
"No," she said stiffly, "I will do that without your help, thank you."
Morgana propped her butt on the wall he leaned on and tilted dangerously backward to catch his gaze. "We'll restore the whole isle, and with Mordred's weight-reducing spell we're making fast progress."
He'd never seen a spell like that. "How does that work?"
Her expression went wicked. "What are you going to trade me for it?"
He frowned. "What do you want?"
"I want to change bodies, like how you became the Dolma."
Definitely not. She was already bold enough to teleport into Camelot, no telling what she'd do with a disguise. "Not an even trade. Besides, I could probably figure out Mordred's spell by just watching the Druids use it."
She huffed. "At least trade me transformation of clothes," she picked at her dress. "Fighting in a skirt is horrendous, Merlin. I deserve pants."
Gwaine finished his second perimeter search of the cellar chamber in the skinny tower. It was a dark place, round and empty. Whatever grain and drink had once been stored here had long ago been stolen. Empty shelves in the walls had likely once held lanterns.
Mordred stayed adamant, though, that Morgana had forbidden this space specifically.
The only interesting bit of the place was a triangular crawl space large enough for a child. Percival kicked once more at it, and as before, nothing broke loose.
Percival wiped his brow. "Our shoulders aren't getting through there."
"Stick your foot in and see what bites."
Mordred crouched and felt at the walls. "I could fit."
Gwaine eyed Elyan and Percival's expressions. "This kid dies in that tunnel, how mad is Morgana?"
"Furious," said Elyan.
"I won't die," Mordred huffed.
"You think you're going to fight off something the wicked witch of Camelot is scared of? Nuh-uh."
"I could hold his feet," Percival said.
Elyan glanced at Mordred. "Can you sing? Rather than waiting for you to yell, when you stop we'll know to get you out of there."
"I'm not a canary," Mordred answered.
"Do you know the tale of the yellow bride?" Gwaine asked.
"That's filthy," Percival glowered. "I hope he doesn't."
"I know a festival chant," Mordred said, "I'll go with that." He laid down on his belly, pulled his long-bladed knife from his belt and held it before him. Gwaine noted he was right-handed.
"Ready," Mordred said.
Percival and Elyan got into positions, and Gwaine posted up opposite Elyan to feel useful.
Mordred crawled forward on his elbows, starting the chant in a dull, soft voice. Did he have to choose something so haunting?
Past his shoulders he disappeared, still chanting. Then his waist.
A dim green light streamed around the kid's knees. "I knew it," Gwaine whispered.
'Sorcerer?' mouthed Elyan, and Gwaine nodded.
The chanting continued, and then Merlin cleared his throat.
Gwaine whirled– and in the same instant Morgana, panic-stricken, dove for Mordred.
"In the one place you weren't supposed to be," Merlin grinned, amused. Gwaine turned away, and Merlin's face fell.
Mordred's chanting cut off in the same breath as Morgana heaved him out in a surge of magic. Both he and Percival ended up sprawled on the stones, Percival holding a pair of boots, and Mordred blinking at the ceiling.
Mordred sat up, and the most adorable little man crawled from his hair. It peaked through Mordred's dark locks and said, "Hubuhbluh bah?"
It's skin was a pale fuzz, and atop its head was a brown cap. It took it into its little hands and wrung the fabric.
"Please tell me this is what you were afraid of," Gwaine begged.
Morgana looked between it and the crawl-space three times, hair flying, "It had bloody teeth and nails like knives."
Elyan edged into position behind Morgana, hand on his sword, and Gwaine appreciated the preparedness.
A faint purple glow appeared in Morgana's hand, not large enough to reflect off of the far wall.
The creature followed it like a hound after a treat, then leapt onto Morgana's forearm and tried grabbing the light into its palms.
"Sard, it's cute," Gwaine said, "Can we keep it?"
Mordred put his boots back on, leaning forward to inspect the fuzzy cuteness. Quiet as always he said, "This is a brownie."
Merlin looked at Mordred, curious too. So he hadn't heard of a brownie either.
Morgana frowned, "Then what did I see?"
"A red cap," Mordred answered. He went quiet, and Morgana filled in his silence, having likely heard the explanation through thought-speak.
"Mordred's seen red caps in abandoned structures before. They are common in old, empty places."
Mordred wet his lips, glancing between them all. "They… feed on magic. I think it changes them."
Elyan narrowed his eyes, as confused as Gwaine felt.
"They change form?" Merlin guessed.
Mordred looked sharply to Merlin, and they held each other's gaze for a held breath.
Finally, Mordred nodded.
Merlin's gaze lingered, then shifted to Morgana, where the little brownie baby was trying to stuff the light into its mouth. Gruffly he said, "It likes you," then faintly he added, "You haven't been lying. No one has performed a dark spell since coming here."
"Hagrah!" The brownie chirped, and dove into Mordred's hair.
Merlin– easily persuaded now, information which Morgana gleefully tucked away– teleported them all to the shoreline to meet Gilli. Two of Arthur's knights crumpled, but at least they didn't puke this time.
Gilli crawled onto shore, a mess of silvery scales and sharp teeth. This was a man? She thought again, What an unfortunate spell.
His panicked, lidless eyes looked between them. "Bodies," he thought, "women in the water."
"Bodies?" Morgana repeated and scanned over the surface of the lake. Familiar lapping waves ended inches below her toes, and the sun cast sparkling rays across its surface. Nothing seemed out of place.
"They were chasing me, and they're coming closer."
Merlin summoned a new ball of water and enclosed Gilli, helping him draw further away from the shore.
"Do you feel anything out there, Mordred?" She asked, but the boy shook his head. She frowned, looking out over the water again. Did it seem… higher?
At her boots the waves lapped near a pace away now. The water was retreating. Morgana put an arm up before Mordred. Something was coming, she could feel it like a tingle in her stomach. "Mordred, take the knights and get inside the walls."
She didn't wait to see him follow directions, focused instead on the now rapidly changing lake surface. Water bulged higher as if a long, massive snake lay beneath the surface, and this rose higher and higher until it obscured the treeline. Seconds had passed.
She stumbled back and her arm bumped Mordred, "I told you, go!"
Mordred moved away and Merlin stepped closer to say, "I'm going to hold it back with magic. You'll help?"
Morgause, what is this? "It's a good idea. If that wave hits the citadel it could collapse half the outer wall."
Magic built in her chest and in preparation she set her feet. Merlin released a moment before her, and his wind blasted back over the both of them. She pushed then, and when her blast hit the growing wave she skid back along the sand.
She expanded her spell, wider and higher, until she was holding everything she could fathom. But the wave wrapped around, and over, and the peaks became long grasping hands. "Merlin–"
The warning broke off in her mouth as the wave burst completely over their spells and in a blink she was drowning.
She spun out of control, completely disoriented, water stinging her eyes and forcing its way up her nose. She flung her arms and legs but could not slow her movements. Her skirts tugged in the currents, yanking her where they went.
Which way was up?
A woman, ethereal, blossomed from the gloom and the water stilled about Morgana. They floated, frozen in time. The woman rose towards her. Was this the corpse the ceasg warned of?
The corpse's eyes glazed with a filmy white but it breathed– rib cage expanding too large. Its arm reached for her, long black sharpened fingers–
"Morgana," Merlin's voice was faint. "Where are you?"
She needed to breathe but that thing came for her. She used the same spell from the beach, blasting a wave of magic outward that pushed her and the creature further apart.
Morgana tumbled, losing sight of it. Merlin said, "Follow the line of our thought-speak. It'll lead you to us, look for it near your temple."
She felt a sudden rush, his magic slipping over hers but then sliding away.
"Sorry," he said, voice strained. "I guess we have to be closer for that to work."
She really needed to breathe.
She blasted another wave of magic in a different direction, and this time she saw a glint of sun. She was getting closer to the surface. Adjusting, she blasted again and moments later broke the surface, heaving great gulps of air between coughs.
The lake had risen impossibly high, reaching halfway up the outer wall of the citadel. She could make out some Druids on the walls pointing down at her. They were small and distant, the wave had pulled her out far. Where were the others?
A cold hand grabbed her ankle and yanked her under. She caught sight of a pale white body and stringy hair streaming behind, then she blasted another wave of magic. The corpse flew down and she blasted up, through the surface of the lake and into the sky.
A hole had opened in the lake to her side, that had to be Merlin.
A final blast of magic pushed her closer but she fell short, running up against a squishy wall of magic. It bent underneath her palms like melted wax, but she couldn't break through. She swum upwards until she'd crested the top lip. Quickly, she flipped herself over into the air gap.
Her hands sunk through the strange thickened water, slowing her descent. Merlin did stand at the center, arms out and obviously too distracted to help her. The circle he'd created was five paces wide and his arms shook with the effort. Mordred ran to stand beneath her, looking up, and the ceasg lay curled in a bubble of water near Merlin's feet.
Something grabbed her wrist.
She yanked back immediately, not needing to see the corpse's face staring back at her to know it wasn't a friend. She fell out from Merlin's shield, out into the open air.
A yelp escaped her before Mordred's weight spell caught hold, saving her from broken bones. Still, when she hit, she sunk up to her forearms in muck.
She struggled, trying to get to her feet, but the weight of the lakebottom mud combined with the water in her skirts made it so she could not dislodge herself. Curse skirts.
He'd just told her this spell, what was it? Imagine the threads of her clothes were magic instead, weave them into something else. It was intricate work, but she worked as fast as she could. Distantly, Merlin was yelling at her.
Finally she had a muddy form of the riding pants from her days in Camelot, and she was able to stumble to her feet.
A soaring, churning whirl of water surrounded them.
"Morgana," Merlin grit out, "Find the knights!" Merlin's eyes beamed a brilliant gold and his arms trembled.
Three of the creatures slammed into the wall, mouths open in a silent screech. He flinched.
She hadn't put a tracking spell on the knights, so instead she hoped Merlin was smart enough to put defensive spells on his friends. If she could see the magic like he did, she could find them then.
Morgana squelched forward, sinking to her shin with every step until she pressed palms to his back. Then she took her magic and passed it into him.
She saw his spell, giant hexagons stacked atop each other into the sky, and felt his fierce determination and ragged ends. She split her magic, lending him half her strength to control as she used his magic sight to scour the waters for the knights.
What was that sound? Like a bee buzzing at her ear.
Gwaine was easiest to find, something was going on with his sword. The others were harder– but Merlin's instincts recognized them. They all fell, alive and coughing, into the muck.
Merlin grunted as she stumbled back and he retook the weight of the water alone. It was up to her to stop these corpses. She almost laughed at the irony. She'd traded the wyverns for these beasts. But what would she be without fighting for every cursed inch forward?
The column undulated with the beating of the creatures' fists, and blackened fingertips began pushing into the open air.
Elyan put two hands on his hilt and swung down in a powerful stroke. A creature screamed, and its hands tumbled end over end and landed in the mud. One hand landed on its back, and like a turtle, waved fingers in the air, stuck. With the second they weren't so lucky, and, disgustingly alive, it scuttled across the mud. Mordred dove on it, holding the hand out at arms length as it tried to twist in its grip.
"Can you teleport them out of here?" Merlin said.
"Whether I can or not, I'm not running!"
She strode for a set of hands nearest her, and yanked the corpse into the open.
His barrier wavered, but held. "What do you think you're doing!"
It had auburn hair in stark contrast to its skeletal, chalky white body. "What do you want from me?" She screamed and kicked the creature in the side. "Have I woken every damned fae on this island yet? What do you want!"
It screeched like a cat, hissing and spitting, then curled around Morgana's boot, grabbing at her ankle.
Morgana kicked faster. "Can't drown me on dry land, idiot."
In her mind Mordred gasped, "She has the Druid Triskelion on her arm."
The Crone, the Mother, the Maiden– the symbol of the Triple Goddess. So these corpses were Druids.
A blast of water slammed into Morgana's face, and knocked her to her knees. She sputtered, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. Everything on her was too sodden and muddy to wipe her eyes with.
Then a chord of water wrapped around her, tugging for the wall.
"Morgana!" Mordred panicked.
She copied what she remembered of Merlin's wall, flinging a piece of that spell before her and feeling it hit and layer atop Merlin's. She slammed against it a moment later, sinking slightly into the sludge-like consistency of the water but not falling through.
An old woman stood behind that wall, just an arm length away. Her corpse body sagged, and her pupiless eyes were a frightening, blank white.
"I know you," Morgana realized, the frigid water like ice where it touched her. An old woman, an old Priestess… an old blind Priestess. "The Crone." I watched her die under the Rowan tree, when Merlin and I watched the Purge. One of the last Priestesses, exalted enough to become one of their channels to the Triple Goddess, who'd died to an Eancanah in the Sarrum's attack.
And the Crone tried to kill her, was trying drown her in this lake.
"Priestess, what have I done?" All she saw in that face was contorted fury. She struggled against the whip of water, but between the Crone and the wall, she was trapped.
"Please, I honor your memory." Heart pounding, chest heaving, she bent a piece of her spell, piercing into Merlin's and leaving a gap to press her hand into. Muscles trembling, she pushed through the sludge of water until her arm stretched before her. The heavy, biting press of the lake put pain tingling through that arm until the cold froze it away. She pressed numb fingers to the Crone's cheek.
She pushed with her mind, the way she threw her voice with magic. "I know you. Don't you know me?"
Water pulled away from Merlin's wall, then slammed into it. It came again, and again: a heavy, driving beat.
"Know… you," the Crone rasped.
"Yes," Morgana said, "You were a Priestess, here, on the Isle of the Blessed."
"You... are the last... of our kind."
The beat of the water struck again and again, going wild. It sounded like chaos and felt like terror.
"You must sacrifice to See."
The water slammed forward, and the thick water spidered up her body in moments, sucking her completely into the lake. The Crone's white eyes stared, stared, and swallowed her.
And she was back at the Rowan tree, watching as the Eancanah landed on the Crone's face, draining her of magic. She screamed with the Crone, feeling her terror, horror tearing through her throat. The Priestesses were screaming, and the Isle's stone pounded with the beat of drums, with the feet of men.
The Crone ripped the slug away, and her mouth was a pit, her veins black, her eyes empty white, and she crumpled on herself corrupted by sudden terrible fury– "Foresee it!"
The vision thrust her forwards, and Morgana suffocated. Bloody, churning water surrounded her, bodies pressed her down into the muck, and they beat, thump, thump, as new bodies were tossed atop.
"I demand revenge!"
Her forearm burned, and the vision shredded. She was herself again and Morgana screamed, bubbles flying from her mouth. The Crone's black fingernails dug into her arm, searing her. "Avenge us!"
"I swear it!" The need to breathe was deadly, but her mind was anchored to the Crone. "I will avenge you! By the Triple Goddess, I swear it!"
The Crone raised her other hand, and squeezed. Morgana crumpled into a ball, and the Crone tossed her away.
When the Crone stole Morgana his spell collapsed out of his control, and Merlin grabbed everyone into the spindliest teleportation tunnel he'd ever created.
He aimed, nearly blinded in his rush, for the Isle. They landed in a pile near the central courtyard.
"For the love of Camelot," Elyan cursed, flat on his back.
Merlin sat up, stretching out his arms. Spirits, he actually ached. "Remind me not to take on a hundred priestesses again, ever."
His heart lurched, realizing he'd grinned that at Gwaine and it may have been okay, or maybe it hadn't– he couldn't stop himself from looking. Their eyes met for an instant, and Merlin startled, turning away.
Then he berated himself for it. Gwaine deserved to be angry, Merlin had lied to him so many times.
Then a ball of water, Morgana, spit from the lake and crashed, skidding, onto the grass near them.
Water streamed from her, and she curled into a fetal position, coughing and hacking. Should he ask if she was alright? She looked so pitiful: bedraggled, muddy, and bleeding. But while he could work with Morgana, showing her care and kindness seemed just… too much.
Gilli groaned to all those who could hear him, "Can she still change me back?"
Just what I needed to see to round off the day, Merlin groused. Gilli's naked, pale, butt.
The idiot could barely stay standing as he pulled pants on. Legs seemed a conundrum.
He turned away from Gilli and lingered on the knights sitting around a campfire with Mordred and some other Druids. Stew boiled in a cauldron at their center. Should he join them? He'd tried to kill Mordred before, Elyan hadn't forgiven Morgana, Gwaine was furious with him, and Percival… well, Percival did smile at him sometimes.
In the time he'd watched Morgana transition Gilli back into a human, they'd learned the waters had receded and the lake of Avalon had returned to its normal calm. Morgana still sat on the ground nearby covered in muck, arm bleeding, and as he focused on her she ran a tired hand down her face. Then she froze, eyeing him through her fingers.
What if he did try to trap her in some way again? Could he keep her here on the Isle, where she couldn't teleport into Camelot again?
This would be the time to do it. She was obviously tired, but so was he. She also had a group of Druids at her back. It was unlikely he could fight them all off after what had happened in the lake.
Even if he were sure he'd win, attacking her now would be a new level of dishonor. Though, none of their previous fights had been honourable.
She knew that too, he could tell. Her green eyes glared and her free hand ended in a claw, building a spell.
For as much as Kilgharrah and Aithusa's "prophecies" differed, the brownie proved she'd used magic for good these past weeks.
Still, how to diffuse the magic that crackled between them?
A joke?
The back of his mind reminded him of Gwaine's glaring, of Gwaine turning his back. Truth would be better.
"Morgana," he started, watching her body tense in preparation. "That transformation spell was impressive."
Her clawed hand twitched. "I don't look for praise from you."
"Why would you?" He shrugged. "But we just defended each other's backs. I saved Mordred, and you saved the knights. It's enough for a truce."
"A truce," she repeated, but the tension bled out of her as she appeared to think it over. "I'd far prefer a proper truce with you, than the alternative. I won't aim for your back if you won't aim for mine."
"That's an easy enough trade," he replied.
Morgana's hand relaxed, then she bent forward touching fingers to her bleeding forearm. Her eyes flicked to Mordred who suddenly sat ramrod straight. "Aithusa would enjoy your visits. If you'd like, Mordred can acquaint you with the Isle."
He nodded, and she rolled to her hands and knees, then took a shaky step to her feet. She glared once more over her shoulder, then limped for the larger tower.
Merlin could feel Mordred's eyes on him, and his skin crawled for that too. That was another of Kilgharrah's prophecies that chilled him– would Mordred really grow into a man that would kill Arthur?
If he asked Aithusa, would she say the same?
Gilli had noticed his out-of-focus staring, and beckoned him over. As Merlin approached, Gilli patted the space on the rubble mound next to him, which meant Gwaine would be at Merlin's other side.
This wasn't the only campfire in the clearing. Others began meals as the sun began its descent.
He recognized no one but the group he'd come with, so he tried for a comfortable position next to Gilli as the group listened to a Druid completing her lecture on water fae.
Gilli turned to Merlin, brows furrowed.
Merlin stared back at him, eyes scanning his sort-of friend's face. This was lasting… awkwardly long.
A blush rose on Gilli's cheeks, and he whispered under his breath, "Is it normal for magic to go wonky after a physical transformation?"
Uh… not for him? "I may not be the best person to ask."
Gilli glared at the fire. "I couldn't throw my thoughts at you just then."
Merlin's head tilted. "You still have your magic, right?"
Gilli turned behind them, spreading a hand over the ground. His brow furrowed and a length of time passed. Then wind rippled, and a pebble rolled away. Gilli heaved a sigh. "I've got it, but I can't control it."
That was weird.
Gilli rubbed at his third finger. "I used to have my father's ring, it helped me. Fie, I think I can't do spells without it."
"You can," Merlin said, "You just have to relearn them." He didn't know how Gilli's ring had worked, but of course he could learn to wield magic again.
"Of course this would happen as soon as I get my feet."
"Look, maybe we run through a few things in the morning and see how–"
"Nevermind that," Gilli whispered, voice intense. "Sina, the Sarrum has her again."
Gilli's eyes dodged to the side, and Merlin turned to see Gwaine, bent forward and interest obviously peaked.
Gwaine's face flushed, "All the knights know of the Sarrum's attack on Arthur. Are you planning something against him?"
Percival and Elyan turned from the wider circle to listen too, and Merlin's mind whirled. What was he going to do about the Sarrum?
Gilli answered them instead, "My betrothed is one of his harem. But the Sarrum stole her back."
Percival perked, "You're planning a prison break?"
"I hope," Gilli said, glancing at Merlin.
Merlin hesitated. Leon had told him a lot of the Sarrum's histories, and beyond those dangers was a king that had trapped Morgana and nearly Merlin himself. More importantly, as Gwaine had said, the Sarrum had recently tried for an attack on Arthur's life and had learned Emrys worked with Camelot. He could be expecting a retaliation. "Unfortunately, I think we need to be very wary of the Sarrum. I don't think it's a good idea to break into Amata again."
Gilli grimaced, hands clenching and relaxing.
"You've done it before?" Elyan said, eyebrows raised. He'd have heard Leon's stories too.
Gilli straightened and plastered on a false smile, "Now, that is a story." He shrugged, "But I am way too hungry to tell it."
The knights groaned, but a bustle began on whether the stew over the fire had cooked through. Gilli hid worry for his betrothed, and Merlin couldn't blame him.
"We'll get her out, eventually, I promise," Merlin whispered.
Should he do something about the Sarrum? What, though? If he acted without speaking to Arthur again, how would Arthur react? He'd seemed so mad about every decision Merlin had made.
"You've helped a lot of people, haven't you?"
Merlin blinked, looking to Gwaine.
The man had spoken quietly, and no one had overheard. His gaze dodged to Merlin. "You helped me save my sister, and you helped Gilli save his betrothed, then you forgot you ever did it."
He hadn't forgotten, he'd just not found a good enough reason to talk about it. Merlin opened his mouth to explain, but Gwaine continued on.
"If we hadn't been here, would you have told me about this? You saved our lives and held back a horde of fae. You saved everyone's lives." Gwaine laughed wryly.
"I just," Merlin hoped to explain himself–
"No," Gwaine's laugh faded to a shake of his head. "You're the same manservant with the glitter in his eye that I met in that far away tavern. Too… humble to admit who he is."
That was too much forgiveness. "I don't know how to explain things sometimes. I'm not humble, just confused."
Gwaine nodded, "Is that really the reason? Is that why you didn't tell me about freeing Morgana and all that?"
"Mostly," Merlin shrugged. "I don't know Gwaine. I didn't know what to say. You, like the others, believe in the Knight's Code in a way that doesn't make sense to me. I'm so much worse than you, but I worry I have to be."
Gwaine's mouth quirked, rueful humor taking him. "I didn't tell you about my nobility until I had to, and I know why I didn't. I'm no Leon either."
Merlin felt his heart shiver within him.
Gwaine clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder, "I wish you'd tell me now, but I get it if you're figuring it out."
Merlin swallowed, putting a hand over Gwaine's. Emotion hit him heavily, but he worked to hold it back. "Thank you," he whispered. "And I do consider you a great friend. I'm sorry for hurting you."
Gwaine smiled, then turned back to the fire, "Well are we eating or not?"
As the setting sun fought the horizon, Merlin and the knights separated from the Druids into a space he could form a tunnel.
"Is this what your secret adventures are usually like?" Percival asked.
"Normally not so eventful," Merlin said. He built the scaffold and ignored the now telltale buzz in his ear as Albion's magic completed the tunnel. He turned from the storm, letting it fade away from consciousness, and smiled at the knights standing tall to his side. Then as one he blew them in a gale for the castle.
He aimed for his room, but misjudged slightly and all four of them ended their journey standing on his bed. Gwaine's muddy boots soaked his pillow brown.
"Nervous?" Gwaine asked, grinding his heels in before leaping onto the floor. Miserably, Merlin looked at his ruined sheets. Fortunately he was good at cleaning spells.
"Is it too late to debrief Leon?" Elyan asked.
Percival shrugged and Gwaine added, "We'll have to sit through Arthur's–" He cut off as Elyan opened the door to Merlin's rooms.
"Sire," Elyan choked.
"Elyan," Arthur's voice said, standing outside the door. "I'll receive all three of your reports tomorrow."
Elyan bowed. "Yes, sire."
"Leon's waiting for the three of you."
Gwaine sighed dramatically, but the three knights filed out in quick order, Percival with a nod to Gaius.
Arthur eyed Gaius watching them, then pushed Merlin back into the small room and closed the door behind them. Arthur frowned. "I've had all day to think about what you said, and what I could do."
Merlin's heartbeat froze, frantically trying to go back over where they'd left things. "And?"
"You were my best friend. I trusted you. You were always honest to me when I desperately needed it. And despite what you said, and what you've done, I realized you didn't lie to me today." He muttered, "For how often you call me stupid, I do know when the real you is lying."
Arthur shook his head. "I offered Morgana a trade, but it doesn't mean I trust her. I can't say I'll ever forgive her. But you? There's still a chance for you."
Arthur reached into a pocket, pulling out a letter.
"What's this?" Merlin said.
"I've gotten numerous reports from Saltmaw," Arthur continued. "Unrest; maybe magic, thieves, corruption, who knows the true culprit. Salt is too important a commodity to let it slide any longer. It's time I got to the bottom of it." He patted the letter. "And you're coming with me."
Blood / Water sung by grandson
Footnotes:
(1) King Alined (from Deorham) has a pet sorcerer (the Trickler) that he treats like trash. In canon I think the Trickler is meant to be Alined's manservant.
(2) Morgana and Arthur both reference the deal they made at the end of Book 2 - she's not to step foot in Camelot again in trade for dominion over the Isle.
(3) Picture a ceasg as a creepy mermaid
(4) The blind Crone that we meet here we see near the end of Book 2, she acts as one of the Priestesses in the original Isle. She died by an Eancanah during a Purge attack, while Nimueh and Morgause had come to her for help.
(5) Rusalka are water nymphs created by dying near a lake. The only way to let them rest is to get revenge for their death.
(6) Sina is from near the end of Book 1, Merlin goes with Gilli to free her from Amata.
Ah, so much happens in this chapter, I really like this one. I think my favorite bit is Aithusa being a preteen to Merlin.
If the Rusalka are confusing, don't worry about it. They're both trying to help Morgana and terribly failing due to succumbing to their new fae nature.
Next time: King of Thieves. Arthur and Merlin against the salt thieves.