Chapter Four: With My Blood
Go. Go.
The mantra within her continued with every step, with every breath, as she crossed the lands that separated her from where she needed to be. She did not fear the shadows, did not fear the things with teeth that watched her pass.
Cloaked in black velvet, she was nothing more than a shade given form, moving swiftly under the guidance of her magic. Close behind was Gwaine, who had barely spoken after they had begun their quest. He was dressed like a commoner with a brown cloak, sword hidden thanks to a sheath that fell down the length of his spine.
Morgana could hear Merlin's thoughts even from miles away and even if she could not, she knew that they would only echo one name. Her own thoughts turned to her would-be sister, who had disappeared without a word. Part of her understood why Iris had done what she had done, for Iris had always been the first of them to put herself in the path of danger if it meant protecting those she loved. The sword of Camelot given life, forged in dragon's flame.
And there was Merlin, her equal in every way, born with the gift like Morgana. He might not be the sword with a wicked edge, but perhaps the shield, the ever-constant protector, equally as important as the weapon.
What did that make her? What was her purpose in the fate that was slowly unfolding? She was not a sword nor a shield- she preferred her flowers and growing things, even as the magic she held within trembled with its might that perhaps she still refused to wholly recognize.
Her thoughts were interrupted when they entered a clearing. She stopped when the hairs along her arms rose, as if she was standing beneath a boiling sky and lightning would surely strike her down.
Gwaine moved for his sword, but a hissed order from her had him backing down. He stayed half-hidden under a massive cedar tree, then softly swore when his gaze turned to what was before them.
Morgana's eyes strayed to a massive boulder and for a moment, she saw small creatures crawling across the pocketed surface, creatures with twig-like limbs and large, black eyes. When those oily gazes turned to her, instinct had her straightening her spine, bowing her chin in respect.
"The sword has been placed, princess," one of the creatures hissed. "And soon it will find its master."
Morgana refused to let her hands tremble. "The sword?" she repeated, wondering briefly if it meant Iris.
"The weapon forged for the once and future King," the creature said, tilting its head slightly. "And you will be the one to guide him to it."
The creatures began to crawl away, melting back into the woods. The one who spoke to her lingered. "You will know when it is time, heart of Camelot. Darkness is coming and soon with it, war."
Then the creature disappeared.
Morgana strode forward to the massive stone, etched with runes that had faded with time. She placed her hand on it, surprised to find it warm in such a cold place. Her magic flickered in response.
Gwaine watched her and their surroundings warily, keenly aware that if he had been alone that those things might have tried feasting on his bones. He had grown up listening to the tales of the creatures that haunted the woods, the faeries and sprites and terrible things that tricked many travellers to their deaths.
Unaware of her lover's worries, the dark-haired sorceress stayed in that clearing, listening to the stone and what its old magicks told her, before continuing onwards into the dark. The knight trailed behind her, eyes flickering from tree to tree, trying not to linger on the eyes that stared back at him.
Ooo0ooO
The smell of death was horrible. It was something he would never get used to, no matter how many years he lived.
The crows were already picking at the corpses of dead livestock, clever enough to avoid the withered crops that were releasing an ashy residue that made him cough.
"We do not know what caused this, my king," the local village leader was explaining to Arthur. "'Tis a blight on the land."
Arthur's mouth tightened. "Do you believe it to be magic?"
Merlin paused, listening intently from his place a few yards away.
"There have been rumors, my lord, rumors of a terrible magic that has returned. A sorceress raised in the old ways, both beautiful and powerful."
Merlin knew the look on Arthur's face- he had seen it many times, but it had been Uther who had bore it. Part of him was chilled by the cold look in Arthur's eyes.
"How many villages have been affected by this… blight?"
"I do not know, sire. It creeps slowly."
Merlin could hear the knights murmuring amongst themselves but find the keen gaze of Lancelot burning between his shoulder blades.
The knight moved to Merlin's side, his gaze turning towards the death and rot. "She has gone after this dark sorceress," Lancelot said softly, knowingly.
Merlin barely dipped his head in a nod even as his hands clenched into fists. "I should be with her."
Even so far away, he could feel her magic, the light in the dark that was poisoning the lands. His hands trembled as his magic swelled like a wave within him. It was moments like this he was reminded that his magic was just as great, if not more, even if he kept it on a tighter leash.
And sometimes leashes snapped.
"Can you…?" Lancelot trailed off, lightly tapping his temple.
"There's nothing but silence," Merlin whispered. "I can only hear Morgana. They're close now."
It happened so quickly Merlin barely had time to cry out before the earth trembled and rolled beneath his feet, before it cracked open beneath Arthur's feet and the king went tumbling into the abyss.
Ooo0ooO
Iris stared at the dark sorceress before her, eyes rimmed with copper as the borrowed magic within her veins thrashed and roared to be released.
"You've cheated, Iris," Nimueh taunted. "Stealing magic that is not yours to wield. Naughty."
Iris bared her teeth. "It was rightfully taken. Perhaps next time send me a more worthy opponent to protect the magicks you wish to horde for yourself."
Nimueh waved her hand, as if brushing away Iris's words. "Resurrecting the last of the blood sorcerers to fight you as a mere test. Pity you did not bring your mighty protector with you this time. How is Kilgharrah?" she asked coyly. "I do miss him dearly."
Some part of her mind begged her to strike now, to end it before it truly began, before the prophecies that lead her here could truly come to pass.
Instead, Iris drew two daggers that had been sheathed against her back. She knew if magic failed her, she would have her training to fall back on.
Nimueh laughed at the sight of the steel. "Are you a knight now, Iris? How progressive of the spawn of Uther."
Iris smiled slightly. "Why don't you come find out what that spawn has taught me?"
Nimueh tilted her head, the only other movement she made before she attacked. A black bolt of lightning shot out from her hand, arching towards Iris.
Ducking and rolling, Iris maneuvered behind a crumbling pillar. Another blast came, knocking a chuck of rubble into Iris, causing her to stumble.
Landing on her knees, Iris used the momentum to slam her hands into the ground, which pulsed and ripped open beneath Nimueh.
Banishing her black-edged magic, Nimueh sent shards of rock towards Iris as she sent the crack in the earth off into another direction. The earth heaved again, as if it were a massive beast awakening from a long slumber. The quakes rippled out from the Isle across the lands.
Rising, Iris allowed the fire that burned inside her to explode. A wall of flame shot up, protecting her from the rock shards before spearing towards Nimueh. Pivoting on her heel, using her body's movement to her advantage, Iris sent a silver dagger spiraling after the flames.
Nimueh's laughter cracked out across the stones as the flames engulfed her, before her body seemed to melt into the yawning hole in the earth before her.
Iris only smiled. A flick of her wrist had her dagger returning to her.
A thin smear of blood covered the sharp edge, dripping on the scorched, overturned ground next to her.
Ooo0ooO
He was hidden away, stored like some sword waiting to be taken out for battle.
The other presence occupying his body and mind seemed focused on what was happening on the Isle, where shock waves made the earth turn and bright sparks of flame lit up the mist and fog that blanketed the area.
So he turned his thoughts elsewhere. The red-haired sorceress would claim an unknown victory in the fight, unbeknownst to her enemies that only focused on the power her magic wrought. But there was another who was close.
Where the red-haired sorceress's magic flamed and burned, the dark-haired sorceress's magic seemed to soothe, ebbing and flowing like a calm tide. It was not her time to let it loose, to allow it to rise up and wash away those who stood between what would be and what could be.
Mordred smiled when he saw her in his mind's eye, shrouded from the dark lord who was still focused on the flame that was dying out at the heart of the ruins.
Morgana stepped out from the mist and cold, her attention solely on him as her knight shadowed her every movement, weapon already drawn.
He knew what needed to be done- what needed to happen in order for her to defeat the lord who was now realizing they were not alone.
He only prayed she would make the right choice.
Ooo0ooO
There had been no doubt in his mind when he had dove after Arthur into the darkness, into the earth that quickly swallowed them whole.
It was dark and growing colder by the minute as he fell into nothingness. He tried calling out Arthur's name, but there was no sound here, not even the whistling of wind.
When the light came, it was blinding and it took him a moment to get his bearings.
It took a long moment for him to realize they were standing in the meadow outside of Camelot, which was covered in mist and frost when before it had been blooming.
Arthur, whose expression seemed to be made from Stone, drew his sword when he saw the dark sorceress standing before them.
Merlin stared at her, since she was beautiful in an almost cruel way, but also because when her cloak shifted, it revealed a thin red line along the side of her throat.
Immediately, he knew who gave her that wound, which was slowly healing itself. It did not leave a scar, but its message was clear enough.
A distant part of him wanted to laugh.
Then warmth trickled inside him, where the ice that had been blocking him from her had been. Her presence was familiar and missed, clicking into place within his soul.
So instead, he smiled.
"Ah, King Arthur," Nimueh mused. "Shall I curtesy? Or should I have you bow to me, as they once did long ago?"
"How about I drive this through your heart?" Arthur asked calmly, lifting his sword.
Nimueh laughed. "Such bravado. I believe if you drive that through my heart, all it would do is mess up my pretty dress. You do not have the right weapon, child of Camelot."
Merlin stepped forward, ready to defend Arthur, even if it meant revealing his long-hidden secret. His heart raced at the thought.
Nimueh's eyes drifted to him, then widened with apparent delight. "Merlin," she said slowly, as if savoring his name. "Or is it Emrys? Or do you only have your lover call you that when you are… here?" she asked, gesturing around her.
Merlin ignored the insinuation while avoiding Arthur's gaze that snapped to him at the name Emrys.
"I just left her behind. Rude of me, I know, but I had other matters to attend to. I'm sure she will understand." Nimueh gave Arthur a wide smile that showed all of her teeth.
"Merlin, what is she talking about?" Arthur asked in a low voice.
"I knew you had returned, but I did not know you liked to hear yourself talk, Nimueh," Merlin said, trying to keep his tone even.
"It has been some time since I have been on this side of the veil, please excuse me if my mannerisms are a bit rusty. Will you attack me now, Emrys, in front of your once and future king? Will you pay the price with your head?"
Merlin drew his sword, gripping the pommel tightly.
"Now, now," Nimueh tsked. "Iris did the same. Do not bore me with such things." She lifted a hand, which was wreathed in black fire. "Show me why they call you Emrys."
Before Merlin could speak, a sudden, hot wind blasted across the meadow, cutting through the cold and rocking the trees.
He did not need to turn to know who was coming, nor who was with her. He felt her every footstep, could almost hear her breath.
"More guests?" Nimueh frowned. "My, this is a party now."
Then pointing at Arthur, as if in accusation, Nimueh unleashed her dark magic.
Ooo0ooO
Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin or its characters.
Author's Note: Happy New Year!
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