Nimulot Encounters: Fire and Water
CH5: Under Siege
'No. Don't do it. There has to be another way.' He had no idea if she could hear him.
The Weeping Monk had never been more grateful for Goliath, his steady and trustworthy stallion. He and his red brothers were following the trail left by the fey fleeing Numos, the fey haven burning behind them. The others knew not where the trail would take them, but he knew. He could see the open gates of Grammaire through her eyes. He had been standing inside Numos, admiring all that she'd grown inside when the drain of the sword nearly brought him to his knees through their bond. He gripped a railing to keep himself upright, noticing the flame a moment too late. He recoiled, hiding his unharmed hand while he checked every red-robed man around him; no one had seen. "Tracks!" He heard a man bellow, "Wagons!" He gladly ran to Goliath, mounting up and barking orders even as he was robbed of his vision. When last he'd looked through her eyes, a question had triggered the shift. He had been straining to hear inside the tunnels, wondering if she was truly alone, and he suddenly found himself looking through her eyes. This shift occurred with no prompt at all... He'd spent half his life denying his nature, but his deepest instincts would not be cowed by whips and fists. He had kissed her again, holding her body against his. She was his, and he was hers. She was in danger, and there was nothing he could do but watch.
She had combined her own magic with that of the sword again. When he felt the drain, when his vision started shifting, he'd glimpsed the sea of red. She bore no visible wounds as her own horse navigated through the mangled bodies, but he felt her struggle to stay upright in the saddle. The sword was becoming more and more demanding. Her attack at the mill had claimed more lives, but this attack had been more taxing. Where were the others? Had they truly named her their queen? If so, why did she stand alone? Why did she approach the gates alone? He knew Grammaire was occupied by forty of his red brothers... by forty Red Paladins... if she had killed a dozen in the woods, that left twenty-eight inside. Nimue was powerful, but she was young and untrained. She was surely riding to her death. The Monk fought to keep his expression neutral. After so long on her trail, he couldn't stand the thought that this would be her end. What was she thinking?!
Nimue started to slump forward in the saddle, but she forced herself upright, holding her head high and keeping her expression neutral. The tingling dryness in her eyes wasn't helping; Lancelot was watching. Wherever he was, she hoped his blindness didn't get him into trouble. She could feel concern and frustration bordering on rage leaking through the bond. She almost laughed. Not knowing her plan, he likely thought she'd lost her mind entirely. Of course, if anything went wrong, if her people inside weren't ready...
'I have a plan, Lancelot,' she tried to tell him, not really believing he could hear her. 'If this doesn't work... I can only hope it will help you see. Leave them. They can't stop you, even if they kill me. Take the sword and leave.'
"Leave, and you will be spared the fate of your brothers in the wood," Nimue spoke with all the confidence she could muster in her weakened state. She couldn't see Gawain, Kaze, Arthur... only Red Paladins surrounded her, and a few humans stood back observing the spectacle, laughing along when the paladins laughed at her. Again, Nimue looked around, slowly dismounting so no one would notice the way she looked at the walls.
Reinforcements, the Monk realized. She'd been expecting reinforcements to be ready on the walls. She knew the sword would drain her, but she'd taken a calculated risk. Something had gone wrong and her enemies were calling her bluff. A fresh fey scent registered and the Monk stiffened, still unable to see.
"Peace, Ash Man," a barely audible voice reached him. The Red Paladins around him continued on, hearing nothing. "You cannot see? Your eyes are with my daughter?" Merlin? The Monk nodded infinitesimally. "You're about six horse-lengths from a narrow trail to your left. Tell them to go on without you."
"There's another trail here. We can't risk an ambush. Continue on this path and stay alert." He could easily be walking into a trap, blindly no less, but this fey male's scent was like Nimue's, and Nimue had learned of the trace from her father. He was also confident he could fight one man blindly if it came to it. If Merlin was going to attack with magic, surely he would have done so already. One set of footsteps moved quietly beside him, robes brushing against ferns, a staff striking the ground gently but bearing more weight than necessary. "You're injured," he said softly.
"Is she?"
"Scrapes and bruises." The Monk flinched as Nimue was suddenly thrown. She'd been fighting sloppily, barely able to lift her sword, but she'd caught her opponent off-guard with a headbutt. Retaliation had come swiftly. "Where are her reinforcements? This is ridic—No!" She begged the sword for more power and it granted her wish, giving her just enough strength to cut her opponent in half before it took what it wished from her. The force of the drain made the Monk collapse, falling from his saddle. He hit the ground as she did, unconscious.
"Ewekin, esh werrour. Yua meti woll lovi. Ym deaghtir niids yua un yuar fiit." The Weeping Monk stirred, hands searching for his weapons even half-conscious. He didn't understand what was being said, but it shouldn't be said. Fey. Demons. Magic. Evil. His training kicked in a moment before memory followed. Nimue. He opened his eyes, and his senses were in agreement: He was not in Grammaire. He was somewhere in the woods with Merlin the magician, Nimue's father. Close enough to touch, he could smell Merlin's wound. The Monk's eyes flickered down to the man's chest. It looked like a poisonous arrow had pierced him; something had partially cauterized the wound from within, but the wound was festering, the poison still spreading slowly.
"Old as you are, can you not heal yourself?" Perhaps he could have chosen his first words to his mate's father more tactfully, but it was no small thing for him to converse with fey without threatening them. Nimue was different. Merlin laughed.
"Lenore's daughter indeed. She believes I betrayed her, but she keeps my secrets."
"She told me you want to destroy the sword," the Monk confessed, sitting up and flexing stiff muscles. "She agrees it should be destroyed, but you have the fey fire she needs." Merlin blinked at the Monk, clearly taken aback.
"She seeks the fey fire? She wants to destroy the sword? Something significant changed since last we spoke."
"Perhaps the sword had not yet turned on her," the Monk mused. "Three times now, I've felt it through our bond... I assume I would know if it killed her?" Merlin nodded, his eyes kind.
"It's understandable that you too know so little of the trace," he said softly, almost too kindly for the Monk's comfort. "I felt Lenore's passing when Dewdenn was attacked. I knew nothing of Nimue until she sought me out at her mother's behest, but when we met... I knew she was my kin as surely as I knew she'd found an Ash Folk mate. She told me nothing about you at all, but when my wits returned to me I worked it out: The Weeping Monk. We've never met, but you're named for your markings, and she was clearly raddled by your bond, poor thing. Her father and her mate are both traitors to her kind."
"She's their queen," the Monk bristled at Merlin's words, but instead of denying his fey origins, he felt the need to defend Nimue. "She slays paladins by the dozen, and she used the food-bearing magic you taught her to feed her people. I don't believe they know about either of us, but they love her. They hated her in Dewdenn. They feared her, but now they trust her to save them." The Monk's earlier frustration returned with a vengeance. "They look to her to save them, but where were they when she needed reinforcements?! She understands the dangers of wielding that wicked sword more than necessary; she wants it destroyed as soon as she can get her people somewhere safe, but when she needed them at her back, they failed her! The sword nearly killed her! I've no idea how she survived that last draining, surrounded by the enemy no less, but they expect more of their young queen than anyone expects of Uther Pendragon!"
Merlin's eyes were still kind, twinkling with some humor. "You have a reputation for being both deadly and quiet," he mused. "Is it your bond to my daughter that moves you to speak so freely? Or are you more relaxed away from your red-robed... comrades? Forgive me, I know not what to call them as I clearly heard you refer to them as enemies just now."
"Her enemies," the Monk corrected, abruptly standing and moving a few steps back from Merlin. He silently puzzled over how comfortable he was in the conjurer's presence, and that line of thinking brought him back to his original question: "Why have you not healed yourself?"
"It sounds like Nimue shared more with you than she shared with me," Merlin sighed. "How the sword came to her? I'm not evading your question again, I assure you."
"Her mother gave it to her when Dewdenn fell," the Monk responded cooly, adjusting his hood and his belt. "When you met, you told her you wielded it last. You told her wielding it was dangerous and it should be destroyed. That is all I know beyond what I've felt through the bond."
"I tried to dispose of the sword by hiding it in my own body," Merlin said bluntly, lifting his shirt and tugging his trousers down below one hip, showing the Monk the mark on his side. It looked more like a brand than a scar, but it was distinctly sword-shaped. "Lenore, Nimue's mother, saw I was near death and extracted the sword to save me. She was betrothed to another, but we fell in love while she healed me—that's how Nimue came to be, I'm afraid—and the sword was forgotten for a few days. Lenore recognized the sword, and she was protecting me when she hid it away, but when I realized my magic was gone... Well, Lenore and I parted in anger, and I became quite the showman. I cannot heal myself, because the sword stripped me of my magic."
"You're certain it was the sword?" The Weeping Monk was nothing if not observant, and as shocking as Merlin's confession had been, the coincidences had not gone unnoticed. The Monk wondered if Merlin was testing him or if the thoughts had truly not occurred. "The sword was removed from your body, you bonded with your mate, you conceived a child, and in doing so you broke a betrothal. I recall nothing of fey betrothals. Is there any chance you were cursed for your involvement with a betrothed woman? Is it possible your power was transferred to your daughter? She's performed magic the likes of which I've only heard of in old legends. My bond with her hasn't stripped her of her power, so I doubt your trace harmed you, but surely you've considered these possibilities? I've felt the drain of the sword through our bond, and it seems purely physical. Back in Numos, I felt it draining her and I accidentally passed my hand through flames—I have no magic, but my inborn immunity was unaffected." The Monk blinked. He hadn't meant to share that detail. His bond with Nimue was making him too comfortable around her father. As for Merlin himself, the man looked somewhat sheepish.
"The possibilities occurred," he admitted. "Fey betrothals are not cursed, and the memory-sharing magic I was able to work with the aid of the spirits of Festa and Moreii... If Nimue's magic was my magic, not the magic of my kin, I would have felt it."
"If you had sensed your own magic in her?" For the first time since he heard Merlin's voice, the Weeping Monk's hand landed on the pommel of his sword.
"I believe the sword took my magic and I want it destroyed," Merlin bit out as his own temper flared. "I would not have harmed her! I led you here because I know she's taken Grammaire by now. You and I both know she only bought herself a fortnight at most, probably less. There will be paladins and Pendragon soldiers out there preparing a siege in no time. The Ice King may come for her and the sword as well; I tried speaking to Cumber, but I doubt he'll negotiate. My relationship with Uther is tenuous at best, but I'm sure he'll be more amenable. I'm going to Grammaire to help my daughter. How strong is your bond with her? I turned my back on her mother. Will you walk away from her before you're discovered, or will you go to your mate in her hour of need? Do you serve the Church, or is the Queen of the Fey your queen?"
The Weeping Monk said nothing, but his hand fell to his side. He did not draw his sword on Merlin.
Nimue woke slowly, and when she woke, she believed herself dead. "Pym? Am I dead?"
"No, silly, I lived!" Pym gushed, pulling Nimue up into an awkward but jubilant hug. Just like that, Nimue had her best friend back.
Ignoring the burn on her left hand, the brand left by the sword, Nimue tried and failed to save Pym's viking love, Dof. She nearly collapsed again, seeing spots as she pushed her body and her magic as far as she could without asking more of the sword. She felt tingling behind her eyes and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. "No," she murmured aloud. "I'm fine. Don't get yourself caught." When she opened her eyes, Pym was staring at her. Noting the tears on her best friend's cheeks, she pulled Pym down a deserted hall, finding a storeroom in which she could confess. Merlin, the Weeping Monk, the power of the sword... She had just failed her friend, but she still trusted Pym more than her human advisors. Nimue allowed a few tears of her own to fall, and Pym cried with her. They had no time to waste, but just for a moment, they let themselves mourn the lives they lost. Since the burning of Dewdenn nothing had been the same, and their lives would never be so simple again.
"Fey Queen," Pym sniffed, wiping Nimue's eyes before wiping her own. "Wow."
"I know, it's madness," Nimue said, smiling despite herself.
"Nothing's ever made more sense!" Pym insisted. "It made sense you didn't want to be on the Sky Folk council; they didn't even pretend to care about you or anyone else too different, but you care about everyone, or at least everyone not trying to hurt you! You keep an open mind! You can be Queen of the Fey because you aren't afraid of different and strange."
"I am different and strange."
"Exactly! Just wait 'til you meet the Red Spear; she seems cold and cruel at first, but you're really quite similar. Her people follow her for the same reasons—well, she doesn't have your sword or your magic—her people follow her because she fights for the people the Ice King would cull without a thought. She fights for the outsiders, same as you."
"I hope to meet her, then," Nimue said, giving her friend one more hug and leading the way back down the hall. "Right now, I need to find Arthur and Morgana. I could use Gawain's help as well, but Arthur and Morgana are related to Lord Ector, by marriage at least. I need to... well, I do need to claim Grammaire officially, don't I? Having them there may help... or make things worse. Gods, I don't know what I'm doing!"
"I think the fact that you can admit that is a good thing," Pym commented.
Returning to the infirmary and finding it empty of the living, Pym stopped Nimue with a hand on her arm. "You do realize they can't burn him?" Nimue turned in time to see Pym ripping her gaze from Dof's body.
"Him?" Nimue asked, confused.
"Your mate," Pym whispered. "He's Ash Folk, so they can't burn him, and they say he's an unmatched warrior. If they can't burn him or cut him down, it's not such a massive risk for him to be with you. The biggest threat against him will be the fey, and they named you Fey Queen, so harming your mate would make them traitors too. I'm just saying, if you want him, you can have him." Giving Nimue no time to respond, Pym walked over to kneel beside Dof. Giving her friend space to grieve, Nimue walked outside, her own emotions suddenly spinning out of control.
The meeting with Lord Ector did not go well, and the man brought out the worst in his niece and nephew, but once Lord Ector left the room, Nimue allowed herself to collapse upon her acquired throne. Gawain had also joined them, and he rushed forward when he realized she was still so very weak. Arthur moved to help her as well, but he paused when he saw the way Nimue reached for the Green Knight. He knew there were no romantic feelings between the two, but he'd never seen Nimue so readily accept help. Morgana noticed as well. Unnoticed by the fey heroes, brother and sister exchanged looks of hurt and suspicion. In that moment, they knew they'd missed something significant, or rather... they'd been left out.
"I should go out in the square and grow food," Nimue spoke softly, making no move to stand. Gawain still laid a hand on her arm, keeping her seated. "The humans here will be more accepting if they see we won't consume all their food."
"They can wait a little while," Gawain insisted. "You'll help no one if you're drained again."
"The sword did that. My violent magic does that. Growing food doesn't drain me at all."
"You said it takes more focus," Arthur interjected.
"And it seems to require positive thought," Morgana added. "Uncle Ector certainly doesn't inspire such contentment."
As if on cue, Kaze and Pym entered with another controversial figure. In her exhaustion, Nimue almost let out a laugh. Her feelings about her father had changed for the better since she last saw him, but to see him at that moment... the sword had very nearly claimed her life, and the fates had dropped Merlin at her feet to rub it in. A small laugh did escape her, making Arthur and Morgana stare at her incredulously. Gawain, Kaze, and Pym hid smiles, recognizing the irony of her position as well. Suddenly uncomfortable with so many secrets hanging in the air, Nimue decided her human advisors needed to know the truth... most of it.
"Welcome to Grammaire, Merlin" she began formally, sitting up straight and speaking clearly. "I see you've met Kaze and Pym. This is Gawain, the Green Knight," she gestured to Gawain and he nodded in greeting. "And here are my friends and advisors, Morgana and Arthur, niece and nephew of Sir Ector. Morgana, Arthur, this is Merlin the magician, my father. I won't insult your intelligence by pretending the others present did not know of our relation. This is the first time they've formally met, but I did confess to Gawain, Kaze, and Pym that he is my father. I found out the day he and I first met, before the mill burned. I know not why I hesitated to tell the two of you the truth." Nimue started to apologize, but again some instinct stopped her. Queen of the Fey, she reminded herself. They had to accept that she would not tell them everything. An apology would imply that she had. She briefly met Morgana's gaze; Morgana seemed to suspect Nimue was holding something back, but she nodded in respectful acknowledgement. When Nimue turned to Arthur, he started to look away, his anger there on his expressive face for all to see, but with some effort he met her gaze and nodded as well.
"Merlin... Father, this is not a purely social visit, I presume?" Merlin chuckled softly, clearly touched by his daughter's choice to use familial terms. The Weeping Monk had not led him astray; her opinion of him had obviously changed.
"I'm afraid not, Fey Queen." He replied formally. "For all the roles I play, today I am a messenger. It will come as no surprise that Uther Pendragon's army marches this way as we speak, as do the Red Paladins. They'll be camped beyond the walls by nightfall, I believe. The Ice King has also heard of your movements, but he has yet to send his own soldiers this way. More messengers will come, messengers with strong allegiances to your enemies. I come as your messenger, your scout, your eyes and ears... and as your father, I urge you to negotiate. You have the sword, and you have your magic, but you do not have numbers. You can only protect your people—our people— from the coming siege if you forge an alliance with one of the forces against you. I have heard from a credible source that the smuggler you sent for ships was caught and executed. I know warriors allied with the Red Spear are within these walls, and they may offer you some assistance, but please, I beg of you, please consider other offers that may come. I am now at your disposal. I will go out and negotiate on your behalf if you wish, or I will remain here with you if you'll have me. I'm here to help you in any way I can." Merlin was gasping for air by the end of his speech, his knees nearly buckling while one hand covered his chest.
"You're wounded," Nimue observed, standing with noticeable effort. Merlin smiled.
"Quite the pair, aren't we?" Noticing the burn on Nimue's hand for the first time, Merlin flinched, his smile falling. "Truly a pair. The sword marked you as well."
"It did, but I'm recovering. I was about to grow food in the square. That bit of magic you taught me saved our lives in Numos; I'm hoping to keep the peace within these walls by offering what I can."
"If your friends and advisors here will allow it, I'll join you," Merlin said, smiling again.
"You need healing," Nimue argued. "I am simply tired."
"My wound is poisoned. I've already tended it as much as I can. You surely lack the ingredients needed for the necessary poultice, and I cannot ask you to attempt healing magic in your current state. Our people need you; I am but one man."
"I can grow more than apples," Nimue offered, moving closer to her father. "I might be able to grow what you need." Taking one of Merlin's arms, she turned to Pym. "Search the infirmary. See what we've got to work with." Pym nodded and left the room.
"I should look into what happened with my friend, the ships..." Morgana was still upset, but ready to get back to work. Nimue nodded.
"Do so," Nimue responded. "Thank you. Arthur, please take Kaze and show her all the secret and little-known passages in and out of the city. Gawain, check in with our guards on the wall. With two armies coming, we don't want to appear lax in our position." Morgana, Arthur, and Kaze left immediately. Gawain paused long enough to give Nimue's shoulder a comforting squeeze, a twinkle of pride in his eyes.
"Well done, Fey Queen," he said. He was almost out the doors when Merlin spoke again.
"Does he know?" He asked Nimue, tilting his staff toward the Green Knight. "You said he, Kaze, and Pym knew the truth about me. Do the same three know about the trace?" Nimue nodded and Gawain turned to face his old friend and her father. "I spoke to your Monk. Yes, I put that little puzzle together on my own. I was able to pull him aside as he left Numos, and it's a good thing I did. He feels the power of the sword through your bond. He collapsed when you did, though he recovered quickly. He's made his decision."
"Decision?" Nimue questioned. "Between the fey and the paladins?"
"Between his masters and his mate," Merlin amended. "He has some reservations, but I could easily tell they're rooted in the insecurities that come with an incomplete mating bond. He's rejoined the paladins for now, but only to get a better idea of their plans while they set up camp. I meant what I said: I'm here to help you in any way I can, and I intend to help your mate enter Grammaire."
"The Weeping Monk will openly serve the Fey Queen?" Gawain asked, to clarify.
"They will need some time alone together," Merlin said, "and then yes, he'll come around. The poor lad only hesitates because he doesn't recognize his feelings for what they are. Father Carden and his Red Paladins poisoned his mind, but thank the Hidden he can still think for himself. When he feels the full power of a complete mating bond, he'll never question his feelings again."
Nimue's blush was intense and widespread, making her appear wide-awake and healthy once more. The fact that her father could speak so freely about the status of her mating bond, in the presence of another man no less... "Wait. Poison," She remembered. "You're suffering from a poisoned wound, yet here we still stand." That was all Gawain needed to hear. Not wanting to think about the mating status of the girl he regarded as a younger sister, he made his exit. Nimue helped her father back outside, wondering how long it would be before she and Gawain could look each other in the eye again. "Did you have to say all that to him?" She hissed. Merlin chuckled.
"I'm sure I'll need help getting your mate inside, and of your few confidants he seemed like the best choice. Surely the Fey Queen and the Green Knight can work something out."
"You are never to discuss my mating status with anyone, ever again."
"Nimue! You're awake!"
"Squirrel, this is Merlin, my father. Father, this little terror's name is Percival, but we all call him Squirrel. He prefers it." While Squirrel gaped and Merlin laughed, Nimue released her father's arm and walked out into the middle of the square, immediately drawing everyone's attention, human and fey alike. Even Sir Ector looked on with a mixture of resentment and interest. The fey children started hopping up and down excitedly, their enthusiasm drawing many observers closer. Taking a deep breath, Nimue closed her eyes, imagining roots connecting her feet to the ground and holding her arms out like tree branches.
"Witch," she heard a human female whisper in the ensuing, expectant silence. She ignored the taunt. Lancelot would be with her soon. He was leaving the paladins He was rejoining the fey. They were mates, and soon they would be properly mated. In time, the Weeping Monk would be forgotten, Lancelot of the Ash Folk taking his place. Lancelot... First, there was a low murmuring, then came gasps of surprise and wonder. There were a couple screams followed by retreating footsteps. "Witch!" A few more humans recoiled in fear, but as the whispers of the Hidden became clearer than ever before, there came applause. "Fey Queen!" The energy of the crowd shifted and her magic surged. Children squealed in delight. Small arms wrapped around Nimue's waist and short antlers poked her ribs. Opening her eyes, Nimue lifted the faun child off the ground. She was still exhausted, and her injured hand objected, but the little boy was trying to reach the branches overhead. Where there had been naught but empty space beside Nimue, there stood a full-grown apple tree. The humans in the square watched with bated breath as the faun child picked an apple and bit into it without pause. The food was real. It was safe and edible.
"It varies each time, what I'm able to grow," Nimue announced as she placed the little boy back on the ground. "If you see a plant you don't recognize, point it out to one of us and we'll identify it for you. Some of what I grew might be medicinal, so only eat what you recognize as food. If this tree or other large plants are in your way, they can be cut down, but waste nothing. We may have come here uninvited, but we mean you no harm, and we do not wish to burden you more than necessary. We will not consume your food while you go hungry. We are only here temporarily, and we hope to live peacefully within these walls. The Red Paladins call me the Wolf-Blood Witch, but I am Nimue of the Sky Folk, Queen of the Fey. So long as you do not harm my people, you need not fear me."
There was a ringing silence following Nimue's speech, the humans exchanging glances while the fey watched them warily. "If all fey who understand the common language spoken here will raise their hands?" Gawain prompted from the wall, his voice loud and clear but startling no one. He raised his left hand high and Nimue immediately raised her uninjured right hand, looking around the square at her people. Half of them raised their hands in unison. A few more hesitated, then they reluctantly raised their hands as well.
"Thank you, Green Knight," Nimue spoke up again as hands fell. She would let Gawain decide whether or not he wanted be addressed by his given name publicly.
There was another long silence, then a young woman slowly lifted her arm, pointing at a patch of white flowers near the gate. "Yarrow," Squirrel spoke first, running over and pulling some from the ground. "Medicine. Don't eat this one. It goes to the infirmary." Walking over to the infirmary, he laid the flowers on the ground just outside the door. Leave it to Squirrel to break the ice. After that little display, everyone started exploring. Nimue's magic had touched every corner of the city. Apples, plums, lemons, carrots, potatoes, yarrow, valerian, lavender, and peppermint were all identified before sunset. Spotting new trees and shrubs outside the walls, Gawain and Kaze led small groups out to gather everything her magic had produced.
Thrilling as it was to discover she could grow medicinal plants, Nimue was disappointed when she could not find what she needed to heal her father. As some of her strength returned, she tried to use healing magic on him, but she quickly became dizzy, nearly fainting again. She hadn't touched the sword again, though she kept it in its sheath on her back.
"May I?" Merlin asked her. She startled slightly, having been lost in thought. She and Merlin stood on the wall, looking out at the flickering fires of the Pendragon and paladin camps."The sword," Merlin clarified. "Might I hold it for a moment? Who knows? My own magic might return, then I'll heal myself." Nimue lifted the sheath up and over her head, letting her father slide it off her arm. They exchanged a long look, and then he finally gripped the pommel, drawing the sword. They both gasped in shock and alarm when the blade responded, markings alight like embers in the night. Merlin doubled over for a moment, nearly dropping the sword, but he pushed Nimue back when she moved to help him. He closed his eyes and focused through the searing pain he felt lancing through his body, tuning out the whispers of the sword and focusing on the whispers of the Hidden. He hadn't expected it to actually work, but just that easily, he could indeed feel his magic returning. "Rain." Nimue had to lean in close to hear him. "Uther demanded rain." Rolling thunder drew attention to the rapidly accumulating clouds overhead, and as Merlin stood upright again, all signs that he was ever wounded gone, rain began falling, pouring, extinguishing all the fires in the distance. Merlin's eyes opened, and Nimue was momentarily blinded by the lightning in his eyes. His eyes flashed, and the answering flash in the sky illuminated the ground.
"Stop! Stop!" Nimue screamed, racing down the stairs to the gate. Gawain and Kaze had returned, a large body held between them. The other fey warriors with them looked confused, some of them angry, but Squirrel walked in ahead of them all, looking guilty.
"I'm sorry, Nimue," Squirrel cried. "I didn't know!" Nimue shook her head slowly, not believing her eyes. If Lancelot could feel the sword draining her through their bond, how had she not felt this?