The Chaos Tree

Chapter 17

(NOTE: There is a smattering of Medieval measures and verbiage in this chapter. The explanations are at the end if you're interested.)

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Caleb opened his eyes to white walls and a familiar beeping sound. "Damn it," he mumbled, a hospital. He didn't need to look far to see both Onida and Dean asleep in chairs near his bed, looking very uncomfortable. Smiling, he sent out a gentle psychic nudge, and Dean's eyes flew open.

"Hey," Dean murmured, his eyes going to Onida, who was still asleep. Leaning forward, he asked, "How do you feel?"

"Fine, good. I guess I'm thanking Onida for that?"

Dean smiled. "You are. You're going to need to take her on a huge shopping spree." After they had a short laugh, he sobered, saying, "You really scared her."

Caleb nodded, knowing Dean wasn't only talking about Onida. "Got a bit scared myself." Shifting slightly, he saw that Raylan was asleep in the next bed. "How's he doing?"

"Fine. He has a broken clavicle and a pretty nasty head wound. Onida checked him out, said she'd heal the clavicle and head laceration when you guys get back to the hotel." Eyeing Caleb, Dean asked, "What happened?"

Caleb told about meeting Piruz in the alley, then getting hit with the potion. "I could feel my body shutting down and I couldn't do anything about it. Luckily most of the potion hit the wall, or I wouldn't have made it to the hospital. There was this girl…" Suddenly anxious, he asked, "The girl. Is she all right?"

"She's okay," Dean assured him. "The doctor said she had the symptoms of a concussion without the concussion. Confused the hell out of him."

"I was fighting Piruz when I felt someone behind me. I was able to spin around in time to dodge most of the potion she threw." Shaking his head, Caleb said, "She was obviously under a spell; her eyes were white. Same thing happened with Daniel and Joel." Yawning, he looked around. "What time is it?"

"Almost six in the morning."

"How about we get out of here?"

Dean smiled. "Why don't we let the doctor do his thing, then sign out AMA if needed."

Caleb chuckled, then yawned again. "Yeah, don't you…"

"Miss the days when we just ran for it?" Dean finished. "Damien, you never ran. That was only me and Sam."

"I ran sometimes," Caleb insisted stubbornly.

Dean snorted. "Like Mac would have allowed that. No, you stayed until he was satisfied you were on the mend. It was Dad who viewed hospital stays as optional rather than a necessity."

Caleb eyed his best friend, remembering all the times Sam and especially Dean had needed to heal on the road or in some dump of a motel. "Yeah. I used to hate that."

"Me too," Dean agreed, especially when it came to Sam. "Now, I'm going for coffee while you talk with Onida. Then you can get another couple hours of sleep before we head back to the hotel."

"You should go back now; you both should," Caleb urged. "I'm fine, and I'll be getting some sleep here."

"We'll see," Dean murmured, leaning over and giving Onida's shoulder a gentle shake.

"She can be a sound sleeper when she's tired," Caleb commented with a smile.

Dean shook her shoulder again.

Eyes opening slowly, Onida frowned a moment, then suddenly jerked upright.

"I'm fine," Caleb called out reassuringly.

Dean walked out of the room, a smile on his face.

Onida rushed to Caleb's side and smiled, though her eyes were full of tears. "You scared me, you big jerk," she stated, slapping him on the shoulder before she climbed on top the bed and him.

Caleb ran a hand soothing over her back as she cried into his shoulder. "Hey, I'm all right, thanks to you. I'm all right." He kept on rubbing for a long time until she'd finally calmed down enough to slide off him and onto the mattress at his side.

"I was worried."

Nodding, Caleb murmured, "I know, and I'm sorry."

Onida nodded. "This is the first time we've been on a hunt where you've been hurt. I don't like it."

"I don't want to pretend this isn't a dangerous gig, but we usually don't come up against someone like Piruz. So our injuries are more along the lines of concussions, lacerations and bruises, maybe the occasional broken bone. Coming up against someone this skilled in using magic as a weapon," he shook his head. "We haven't done that in over thirty years."

"What happened?" Onida asked.

"Malachi Harris," Caleb said, and Onida nodded. When they met a year ago, he'd taken a page out of Dean's book and told her everything, all the dark things of his past, who he was related to, the darkness in his blood; everything except Dean being in hell. He felt that wasn't his story to tell. "At first he tried to ingratiate himself to us, but he really wanted to destroy us."

"Like this guy," Onida commented. "He keeps trying to get you on his side, when all he really wants is you out of the way."

Caleb was surprised by Onida's observation. He hadn't thought of Piruz trying to convince them his was a righteous cause in the same way. Nodding slowly, he said, "Yeah, it's similar."

Onida yawned, closing her eyes. "You'll beat him," she murmured, snuggling into his side. "You have right on your side."

Caleb hugged her close, smiling. He wished the situation was as simple as that. Instead, he always found that life was much more complicated.

Dean returned to Caleb and Raylan's room twenty minutes later to find Caleb and Onida asleep on the bed. Smiling, he backed out and walked slowly down the hallway. Fishing in his pockets, he pulled out his car keys and hoped he still had the key to his hotel room.

It was close to dawn when Sam set down his silver spoon and closed the small, draw-stringed potion satchel. "That's the last one." After Dean had called, Sam said they should head up for some sleep. Joshua, however, had wanted to get the protection spell pouches made as soon as possible.

Joshua placed the last protection potion he created atop the pile of twelve. He'd wanted to make protection potions for JT's Triad too. If they were called in to help, he didn't want to stop everything and make protection packets. All that needed to happen now, was to infuse the pouches with Triad magic and they'd be done.

Daniel and Adam had gone up to their rooms just after five in the morning. "You should go up to bed too," Sam said.

"I'll go up soon, but I won't sleep until Caleb comes back," Joshua said wearily.

Sam nodded. He felt the same. Yawning, he said, "So, the Chaos spell. What have you found?"

"I haven't had much time to research it, but it's a very old spell." Leaning over, Joshua slowly pulled a piece of paper toward him. He felt a little wooly-headed and knew he needed sleep badly. Sighing, he checked out the scribbled notes on the page before deciding he could use the paper. Flipping it over, he picked up a worn pencil. "This is a Chaos Spell." He drew a circle in the center of the piece of paper, then drew arrows spiraling from the center in all directions.

Sam frowned. "It looks like a bomb: an explosion in the center spiraling outward."

Joshua nodded. "So, the question is, how is this spell being modified by the circle of boxes around the country?"

Looking up, Sam asked, "What are your thoughts?"

"I'm not sure," Joshua said slowly. "Start at the beginning, I suppose; which is, how do circles act in spell work? They encompass, they protect whatever is inside the circle; they contain and keep what is inside from getting out. So what is Piruz doing? Since the spell is Chaos, the spell has a center focal point. As such, I would speculate the circle is to keep the spell from going beyond the boundary of Piruz's control."

Sam shook his head. "But I thought his idea was to makeover the world? Wouldn't you want the Chaos Spell to cover the globe?"

"It all comes back to control," Joshua said. "Chaos is chaos. Uncontrolled, no one can contain it, and Piruz wants to rule." Looking up from the diagram, he continued, "The world is a much bigger place than when he lived here, either in his original time or during Merlin's. I don't know where he's been since then, maybe holed up in the mountains working on this spell and gathering the seeds, but the sheer size of the world needed breaking down. Someone said it a couple days ago; the United States is one of the most powerful nations in the world. So he takes down the US first and establishes control. Then he has the manpower to take down the most volatile area; the Middle East, where he was born. After that he goes for the world, one country or continent at a time."

"And the seeds…" Sam said slowly. "If the boxes contain the seeds of the Tree, wouldn't they extend the reach of the spell?"

"Possibly," Joshua mused, staring at the Chaos Spell. "But this spell is being constructed in an unusual manner."

Sam frowned. "How do you mean?"

Joshua scrubbed his face wearily. "Magic, like most everything in the world, follows certain ordinances and paradigms; there are rules that can't be broken. But magic is also an art form. Yes, the art must bend itself to the rules, but there is leeway for much creativity." He stared at the Chaos Spell, then at the diagram of the boxes circling the US, trying to figure out the spell from what they already knew.

Watching the older man puzzle through their notes, his eyes darting from paper to paper, Sam had that feeling of watching a Master at work. He knew Joshua was a powerful Crafter, but this was one of the rare times he got the treat of watching all that skill play out.

"The Center must be the Tree," Joshua murmured. "But seeds from the Tree are also in the boxes. Why? The Tree is powerful, the seeds are powerful. Would the offspring be able to contain the mother?" His eyes darted to the diagram of the box locations. "He's making a circle to contain the Tree itself, to bring it under his control. The Tree is the weapon, the Chaos Spell is the control."

"The Chaos Spell is a control?" Sam asked. "Isn't that counterproductive?"

"Not when you're trying to control something that is so much more powerful," Joshua said distractedly.

Sam felt like this whole situation was spiraling out of control. "How can one person contain something that powerful?"

"He isn't," Joshua said slowly. "He's using the Tree itself as a stopgap; the seeds, anyway." Sitting up straight, he continued, "But why put the seeds into cocobolo wood boxes? I'd say because the seeds wouldn't stay away from the Tree." Joshua waved a hand mimicking the seeds going back to their source. "So he infuses the cocobolo wood with his own magic enough to keep the seeds inside." Shaking his head, he murmured, "That must have taken a very long time. Cocobolo wood is not easily manipulated."

"So, if the seeds were free, you think they would go back to the Tree," Sam stated.

"I believe so. The Tree is too powerful. God would not let the seeds of such a Tree escape; wouldn't let the Knowledge contained within the fruit populate beyond His grasp. He would have made the Tree with stopgaps against such an eventuality." Joshua stared to the diagram of the country. "Piruz is creating a spell using a circle, but without a wand."

"How does not using a wand make a difference?" Sam asked.

"Using a wand puts the crafter in direct contact with the spell being formed. Piruz is using the boxes as the connection rather than himself, as one would do in a more contained spell." Breaking off again, Joshua thought through the situation. Typically, for a spell the size of the country, a sacrifice in blood would need to be made. But in this circumstance, would Piruz need to use a sacrifice? If the boxes were the conduits and all were connected, was there a component of this spell he was missing? Suddenly Joshua began shuffling through his rubbings of the box lids and placed them side by side on the table. "North, south, east, west," he murmured.

Sam sat watching as Joshua worked out the spell.

Finally, Joshua smiled and sat back. "Clever, very clever."

Though Sam felt like screaming, Out with it! or strangling Joshua, he tried to be patient. "Something?"

Nodding, Joshua said, "When drawing a spell circle, the wand is the conduit for the Crafter's magic; his power. Piruz can't use his wand to draw a circle around the entire country, but he still needs a conduit for his power. He's infused the boxes with his magic; they're his conduit rather than a wand. The seeds within the boxes give the circle increased power, the power of the Tree itself." Leaning forward, his eyes on the diagrams and the Chaos Spell, he continued, "Once all the boxes are placed, he'll go to the center. There he'll release his control on the Tree and channel the power to the cardinal points," he ran a finger up the paper due north, then to the east west and lastly, south. "Once the cardinal points of the Spell are activated with the power of the Tree, they'll spiral out, connecting all the other boxes forming a circle around the country. The power of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil will fill the United States with mayhem and chaos."

Neither man spoke for several minutes as they contemplated the enormity of the spell and the power of its caster.

Finally, Sam said, "So, he won't be sealing the last box with a sacrifice in New York."

Joshua shook his head. "He doesn't need to. The center is where his power lies."

Sam pulled his computer over and started typing while saying, "The coven that went missing was in the Midwest. What do you bet they live near the very center of the United States…" after a final tap, he sat back and continued, "which is two miles northwest of Lebanon, Kansas."

"That's where we'll find our Chaos Tree."

834 AD

Merlin stared out the front door of a modest inn in the Frankish Empire. They had been traveling for several days, the nearby hills their destination. Though his mind was alert and determined, his body was tired from the exhaustive journey. But he would do what needed to be done. They would be at their destination within the day. A night of rest, and he would need to confront the powerful Sorcerer he'd met years before. In truth, he hadn't thought this encounter would happen. It wasn't that he had underestimated the Sorcerer, he'd merely considered the knowledge he sought well hidden: he had seen to that himself. Berthot was violent, unstable and slightly mad, and the spell he had created was dangerous. It must have taken Piruz years to track him through the maze of misdirection Merlin had lain. Resourceful and powerful, the time had come when he needed to be stopped.

The first dream had come to him a month prior. Blood running down the mountains, forming rivers of red in the foothills. Screams of terror and pain had accompanied the horror, mind-numbing in their intensity. The garnet streams had run until the whole of the country had been covered in a blackish ruby, and he knew; knew that Piruz had found Berthot and would activate the Chaos Spell. Ralf, his young Scholar, had shown up at his door near dawn, his face whiter than the snows in winter, shock chasing his voice away. It had taken a healing draft and a flagon of stiff mead before the young man could tell Merlin about the sea of bodies, severed limbs and staring eyes. Merlin had been astonished at the depth of Ralf's vision, which proved to be much gorier than his own.

"Cruinnich na càch," Merlin had said. "Bidh sinn a 'fàgail taobh a-staigh uair a-thìde." (Gather the others. We leave within the hour.)

Ralf had drained the last bit of his mead before standing and giving Merlin a nod.

They had set out across the Kingdom of England and crossed the North Sea into the Frankish Empire. As they neared the border between the Saxonia and Austria territories, Merlin could feel the rise in power. The unsettled magic had even troubled his sleep, though the roadside inn where they'd taken shelter the night before was meager at best.

"Tha e faisg." (He is near.)

Merlin smiled. "Chan e fiosaiche a th 'annad, Geoffrey." (You are nay a Seer, Geoffrey.)

"Chan eil mi a 'faicinn le mo cheann," Geoffrey said softly, his eyes on the hills Merlin had been regarding moments before. "Ach tha mi a 'faicinn le mo chridhe." (I don't see with my eyes, but with my heart.)

Surprised, Merlin turned to view the tall, gentile man at his side. His idea to create a consortium of men and women to fight creatures and Sorcerers in the world had begun years before with an attempt to find a leader, a guardian, one who would lead the fight. He'd searched for a man with the mind of a Scholar, the prowess of a Warrior, and the heart of a Lion. Instead of finding one man with all these qualities, he ended up with three, a Triad who would support one another through thick and thin.

He'd found William Loganach while on a mission to aid the small Scots kingdom in their territorial battle with the Northumbrians that determined the eastern border of Scotland at the River Tweed. The Scottish Knight had been magnificent, fighting with the strength of a bear and the prowess of a panther. He had defended his King, Malcolm son of Cyneth, saving him from several near deaths, while advancing his Scots troops to the border and holding it. To this day the border remained in Scots hands.

Finding his Scholar had been fairly easy. Seers were uncommon and viewed by the communities with caution. Much mysticism, superstition and caution surrounded one with their gifts. Ralf Hrafnkell was of Norman decent who had lost his parents in one of the many battles between the Northumbrians and the Kingdom of Ireland. When no one could be found to care for the strange child, he was dropped at the monastery of Clonmacnoise Cluain Mhic Nóis, where he studied literature, languages, religion, mathematics, sciences and botany. Finding him may have been easy, but prying him from the place he'd called home for ten years was not. Meaning "Meadow of the Sons of Nós" and founded in 544 BC, the monastery had been a place of peace for the teenaged Ralf. It had taken much conversation and convincing before the young man had agreed to leave with the mage.

It had taken a further six years of seeking before Merlin found the one with the heart and drive to lead his Triad and fighters. He hadn't needed to go very far at all, having found him in his own backyard: Geoffrey Pierrepont. The tall, lean young man was from a wealthy family, one with ties to the peerage. Merlin had a chance encounter with him at his Knighting. The man wore nobility like a second skin and fought like a lion for the good of King and Kingdom. He was humble, stubborn, selfless and fearless. He was the perfect fit to be the first leader of his Triad.

Pulling his mind back to the present, Merlin asked, "Dè tha thu a 'ciallachadh, nad chridhe?" (What do you mean, in thy heart?)

Geoffrey did not take his eyes from the horizon when he spoke. "Chan eil mi cinnteach ciamar a mhìnicheas mi," he shrugged lightly. "Is e dìreach rud a tha fios agam, agus bu chòir dhomh èisteachd ris na rudan as aithne dhomh." (I am unsure how to explain. Tis merely a thing I know, and I should listen to things I simply know.)

Nodding slowly, Merlin smiled. "Bu chòir, bu chòir dhut èisteachd ri do chridhe." (Yes, you should listen to your heart.)

A scuffling at the door had both men stepping aside so that the large man just inside could emerge. William Loganach adjusted the enormous pack on his shoulders. The Scotsman's body was strewn with many weapons including two narrow scramasaxes, various knives and a wooden shield. Suspended by a leather thong circling his body was a massive ax, and he carried a heavy, long broadsword passed down through his family for five generations.

Geoffrey took in the assortment of weapons and smiled. They would be of no use against a Sorcerer the like they were seeking. Yet he knew William felt better being armed than not, so he would not chide him.

Merlin merely nodded. "Ralf?"

"A 'tighinn," William huffed, shifting his massive shoulders. (Coming.) "Bu chòir dhuinn a 'chrìoch a ruighinn le tuiteam na h-oidhche." (We should reach the border by the fall of night.)

Merlin stepped from the small uneven wood step of the Inn and into the yard. "Gabhaidh sinn fois mus gluais sinn air a 'chrìch gu far a bheil an Sorcerer a' feitheamh." (We will rest before we move along the border to where the Sorcerer is waiting.)

"Tha fios aige gu bheil sinn a 'tighinn?" William asked. (He knows we're coming?)

"Tha e a 'feitheamh ri ar ruighinn," Ralf said quietly as he stepped from the house. "Tha e a 'miannachadh fianaisean gu a mhòrachd." (He awaits our arrival. He desires witnesses to his greatness.)

"Chan fhaic e gun tàinig sinn," Merlin stated calmly. "Tha sinn còmhdaichte." (He will not witness our arrival. We are cloaked.)

Ralf turned to face Merlin. "Eadhon bhuaithe?" (Even from him?)

"Is dòcha gu bheil e sean," Merlin stated, his eyes twinkling. "Ach tha mi nas fheàrr." (Old he may be, yet I am better.)

William snorted out a laugh. Even the somber Ralf smiled.

"Na fuirich sinn air eagal 's gum bi e air a chumail a' feitheamh," Geoffrey declared, (Let us not dally lest he be kept waiting) moving across the yard to the wagon standing by. Climbing atop his horse, he waited until William was mounted, and Merlin and Ralf were ensconced in the wagon box before they set off.

.

Early the next morning…

Merlin, Geoffrey, William and Ralf stood sheltered by a cluster of tall Oak trees. In the distance they could see a very tall man standing beneath a magnificent tree. Though they were watching from slightly more than a furlong's distance, each was spellbound by the height and beauty of the tree, each limb of which exploded with a plethora of brilliant green leaves.

"Tha e eireachdail," Geoffrey murmured. (It is magnificent.)

"Bòidhchead uamhasach," whispered Ralf. (Terrible beauty.) His face was completely white as he stared. Images of death, blood and sorrow had woven through his dreams like ghostly shadows.

"Uamhasach, gu dearbh," (Terrible indeed) William stated, his eyes not on the tree, but what lay beneath it. "Coimhead gu h-ìosal." (Harken below.)

Geoffrey and Ralf squinted down at the base of the tree. Several lumps were scattered around the roots of the tree.

"Dè a tha na laighe an sin?" (What lies there?) Geoffrey asked, frowning as he stared.

"Na mairbh," came Ralf's sober reply. (The dead.) "Nach urrainn dhut a bhith a 'faireachdainn an ùpraid san adhar? Bidh e a 'lùbadh mar chleòc na banshee. (Can you not feel the chaos in the air? It bends like the banshee's cloak.)

William touched a pouch dangling from a leather thong at his neck. "Tha sinn air ar dìon." (We are protected.)

"Merlin?"

The mage turned to Geoffrey, meeting the eyes of the man whose heart was bigger than anyone he'd ever known. "Dè a chanas tu?" (What say you?)

Jaw tightening under Merlin's searching gaze, Geoffrey gave a sharp nod. "Ma tha feum air a dhèanamh, leig leis a dhèanamh gu sgiobalta." (If needs be done, let it be done quickly.)

Merlin nodded. Stepping back from the three men he trusted more than anyone else, he said, "Thèid mi an toiseach. Geoffrey, lasaidh tu na teintean." He indicated several bundles of twigs and leaves bound together in burlap cloth. "Cruthaichidh a 'cheò troimh-chèile agus còmhdach. Còmhdaichidh Uilleam Geoffrey fhad 's a bhios e a' lasadh nam pasganan, an uairsin còmhdaichidh Geoffrey agus Uilleam Ralf fhad 's a bhios e a' breith a 'chearcall litreachaidh. Faigh nas urrainn de dhaoine taobh a-muigh a 'chearcaill."

(I will go forth first. Geoffrey, you will ignite the fires. [He indicated several bundles of twigs and leaves bound together in burlap cloth.] The smoke will create confusion and mask our movements. William will shield Geoffrey as he ignites the bundles, upon which Geoffrey and William will safeguard Ralf as he lays the spell. Usher as many people outside the circle as possible.)

"Agus an Sorcerer?" asked William. (And the Sorcerer?)

"Coinnichidh sinn aghaidh ri aghaidh agus is mise a bhuannaicheas," Merlin stated, his expression fierce and uncompromising. (He and I will meet face to face, and I will be the victor.)

None of the three questioned whether Merlin would be able to handle the Sorcerer. If Merlin could not handle the Sorcerer, no one could.

William looked to Geoffrey, then pointed down at the valley in which the Sorcerer stood. The Tree grew up in a sparsely populated growth area at the base of a steep incline. While there was cover, the slope was so sharp, it would be impossible to navigate the terrain without dislodging rocks and earth. Several rods on the north side of the Tree was a treacherous cliff of stunted trees, bushes and brush that ended near a length of the Danube River. Piruz had chosen a place for his Tree that was near impossible to approach with stealth, yet stood within a day's walk of three small villages; two in Saxonia and one in Cologne near the Austria border.

Geoffrey studied the hill side, the cliff and the valley where the Sorcerer was striding around the Tree. Turing to William, he pointed the Ralf, then to a narrow trail barely visible three rods up from the valley floor.

William nodded. "Tha sinn a 'teàrnadh le Merlin." (We descend with Merlin.)

"Aontaichte." (Agreed.)

"Nos pervenit," Merlin murmured under his breath, letting his spell cloaking drop a fraction and infusing the words with his magic. He wanted Piruz focused on him and not on the task his three companions would soon undertake. (We have arrived.)

Just then a wave of power rushed up the hillside and collided with their bodies with all the intensity of a tornado. Ralf moaned and dropped to his knees. Geoffrey staggered but was kept from falling by William gripping his elbow. Merlin turned to where Piruz stood and saw dozens of people fighting and tangling with one another. A couple figures attempted to escape up the hill, but were ruthlessly drug down by others.

Kneeling down beside Ralf, Merlin touched the young man's temples, allowing his magic to heighten the spell pouch's cover while enhancing Ralf's natural abilities.

"Tapadh leat," breathed Ralf, using Geoffrey's hand to regain his footing. (My thanks.)

"Dèanamaid ar seasamh," Merlin stated. (Let us make our stand.)

Ralf stayed in the shelter of the Oak trees while Merlin, Geoffrey and William made their way through the forested area down into the ravine. When Merlin stepped past the densest portion of the trees and became fully visible to Piruz, the Sorcerer stepped back from the flailing bodies and smiled.

"Denique amicus." (Finally, my friend.)

"Amici?" Merlin said easily. "Quid factum est quia nobis facti sunt amici?" (Friends? What have we done to become friends?)

Piruz shrugged in nonchalance. "Et nos sumus denuntiat, et potentes sumus; Sumus multum idem." (We are both Conjurers, we are both powerful; we are much the same.)

"Tu respice in praeteritum, non in futurum credo. Vos ne desideres de chao, ego vis pacem. Vos volo chao; Credo in pace. Nisi in casu, amici simus. Sed salva amicitia tam diversa obiecta." (You look to the past, I believe in the future. You want Chaos while I trust in peace. If such were not the case, we might enjoy camaraderie. But a friendship cannot survive such diverse dynamics.)

Piruz glowered. "Volo defendat innocentes." (I also seek to protect the innocent.)

Merlin gestured to the vicious battle and the dead bodies lying around the base of the Tree. "Et quod non conplebo sermones tuos." (The evidence does not support your words.)

"Bonum tibi superesse!" Piruz claimed aggressively. "Non omnes, non; sed multi. Tu non vides!?" (The good will survive! Not all, no; but many. Can you not see!?)

"Gratum esse nemo damnum." (No loss is acceptable.)

Piruz stared at the mage, then nodded. "Et sic fiat," (So be it) and he threw out a pulse of power that would have knocked Merlin back fifty feet if he hadn't been prepared. A wave of his hand had the power flowing down into the ground. Piruz threw a second, stronger spell, and Merlin deflected it so that it rushed over the cliffside, knocking several trees from their precarious slope-side perch.

William and Geoffrey ran to those battling beneath the Tree and attempted to separate the fighters. Sensing the stronger foe, the villagers didn't run as would most whose skill in fighting was of dubious worth. Instead, they immediately attacked. William dispatched the first combatant with a clout on the head from his family's broadsword. Geoffrey spun another around and kicked him into the villager standing behind him, thus setting both men to tangling with one another.

Piruz stepped sideways toward the cliffs and hurled a spell at Merlin, one that crackled and burned hot in the air. Merlin marshalled the slight breeze into a whirl which caught the arid bolt of power and diverted it toward the Tree. The spell snapped and hissed along the Tree's massive limbs, but did not scorch the bark nor burn even one perfect leaf. Pulling at his inner strength, Merlin flicked a lance of power toward Piruz, that wrapped itself around the Sorcerer's ankles, binding them together.

Piruz tilted and nearly dropped to his knees, but was able to counter the spell without falling. Smiling, he said, "Fas est ut discat unum," as he hurled another spell of fire and burning sparks at Merlin. (I must learn that one.)

Merlin held up both hands, and a silver shield appeared between them, effectively blocking the spells intended to harm him, causing them to return on their original trajectory. Piruz was forced to dodge his own spells, diving to the side as the energy set a nearby bush aflame. More smoke filled the sparsely treed area.

With their backs to the Tree, Geoffrey and William were engaged in wild hand to hand combat; Geoffrey with two combatants, William against three. They needed to keep their wits about them, for not only were those they were fighting completely irrational and erratic, still more were attempting to get around the aggressors to get in on the action. It was a massive mess of flailing arms, kicking feet and shouting faces.

William grumped, "Tha seo coltach ri cait sabaid." (Tis akin to fighting cats.)

Geoffrey barked out a laugh as he swung his sword, knocking aside a man ready to lob a rock at his head. "Cait cunnartach." (Dangerous cats.)

"Dùin do shùilean," Ralf called. (Close your eyes.)

William glanced at Geoffrey, who shrugged. Both men quickly knocked away any immediate aggressors and backed against the Tree, closing their eyes just as flickers of intense white light burst all around them. When they opened their eyes a moment later, echoes of the winking lights still danced before their retinas. Most of the villagers, however, were stumbling about, momentarily blinded by the magic. Immediately the two were able to render several men and a few women unconscious. While they weren't able to bind their arms and legs, they could now do more than fend off numerous limbs or weapons and work to effectively subdue the remainder of the Sorcerer's victims.

Growling, Piruz climbed out from behind the large bush where he'd taken shelter from the fiery spire and began hurling spells at the mage in earnest, throwing one after the other in quick secession.

Merlin was impressed with the Sorcerer's power and the scope of his creativity. However, he quickly realized that the raw talent the other man showed had not been cultivated and tempered by a trained Master. His skill was wasted on an abandon of ill-placed strikes when half the power and a smarter aim would have done wonders. His strategy was aimed more at overwhelming his opponent with his power and speed. Piruz had vast talent but not a tremendous amount of skill, power but no finesse. Therefore, Merlin tempered his engagement technique. Rather than trade spells, he focused on putting up a pretense of response while allowing the other man to drain his strength. He could sense Ralf making the spell circle, and he knew William and Geoffrey had the rabble-rousers nearly subdued. Soon he would need to make his move.

Ralf had started creating the circle on the east side behind the Sorcerer, then moved south away from the man behind the Tree and closer to the hillside. Now he was on the western side of the Tree where Merlin fought. He been precise in his creation of the spell, using the herbs Merlin had mixed and the incantation he had helped create. Working methodically, he hadn't paid much attention to the fighters other than the spell of lights, trusting in Geoffrey and William's protection. As he worked past where Merlin fought, he knew he would be completing the circle in direct view of the Sorcerer. Glancing up, he waited a moment before he caught Geoffrey's eye.

Geoffrey acknowledge the gesture and tapped William on the shoulder lightly before moving over to where Ralf was working. He got there just in time, as one of the rabble-rousers had a dead branch lifted over his head ready to strike the young Seer. Geoffrey swung his sword up, where it connected with the dead branch, shattering it into kindling and preventing the blow from connecting with Ralf's back.

Ralf nodded his thanks and continued on with the last arc of the circle. He tightened his grip on the cypress wand in his sweaty, grimy hand, a wand that had been created by Merlin and blessed by his old Monastic Order in County Offaly, Ireland. A curl of sorrow whispered through him at the thought of his home for ten years. He had loved living and studying at Clonmacnoise Cluain Mhic Nóis. It had been a place of refuge for him when he'd lost his parents and not one family in his village would welcome him into their homes.

His visions had started when he was three years old. Many had been terrifying for him as a child. He would awake screaming and crying, unable to fully express what he had seen. As he grew, he was more able to elucidate the dreams for his parents and the local priest, but the villagers were suspicious of his predictions, especially when several came true; a freak hurricane, heavy rain that flooded the fields, a famine. He'd been seven when his parents died, and the local priest brought him to the Monastery. The monks had welcomed him with open arms, though the Abbott had encouraged him to not give voice to his dreams. Even monks dedicated to honor God and all His gifts could be suspicious of prophetic visions.

A whistling over his head brought him quickly back from his revere and he ducked slightly as Geoffrey swung his sword again, knocking an assailant across his chest with the blunt side of his sword. A small smile quirked his lips as he refocused his attention on finishing the circle. While he missed those monastic days, this new life also brought new learning and interesting adventures.

Geoffrey swung his blade again, grunting with the effort. Sweat ran down his face near his eyes, causing his vision to blur slightly. An annoying buzzing had started inside his head little more than a punct before. Only his training in battle, a training that had started when he was seven years old, kept him from loosing focus. He knew it was the chaos of the Tree making itself felt in his body. For the first time ever he thanked the Lord Almighty he had spent a lifetime honing his skills, because now when he needed it most, they were second nature. William, he was sure, would be thinking the exact same thing.

Merlin stepped back, deflecting another two spells. Marshaling his energy, he pulled in the might of the wind and the moisture around him and shoved a bolt of pure natural power at the Sorcerer. The power of the column swallowed the energy of Piruz's spells, doubling its own power and force. It thundered across the distance between the two men and slammed into Piruz, knocking him back several feet.

Dazed, Piruz blinked open his eyes to see a dappled blue sky through a sea of leaves. He shook his head to clear his confusion, frowning. A scant second before he had been on his feet dueling with the mage. Now he was on the forested floor staring up at trees. The last spell; it had absorbed his own. Gingerly he climbed to his feet, his face set with poorly concealed irritation. "Bonum dolum," he growled. (Good trick.)

"Bonum magicae," Merlin countered. (Good magic.)

Anger whooshed through Piruz like a brush fire. Gathering his strength into a duel force of earth magic and flame, he murmured an incantation under his breath and hurled the spell, not at Merlin, but at Merlin's two comrades who were fighting near the Tree.

Merlin responded immediately. Reaching out to the Tree, he touched on the strength there and found it willing. Siphoning power from an overhead branch, he thought, Dia Uile-chumhachdach nach fhacas agus a tha an-còmhnaidh an làthair, beannaich do sheirbhiseach. (Almighty God unseen and always present, bless your servant.) Touching the nearest branch with his magic, Merlin syphoned off divine power, pulling ancient magic from the Tree. Then, throwing his arms open wide, he released his magic and power into the sparsely vegetative area.

The ground tore itself up sending earth and dirt, leaves and branches flying in all directions. The scattered trees, frail and willowy from lack of sunlight, shattered under the torrent of energy. Lightening flashed from the sky and struck several patches of forest floor, tearing up more ground. To Ralf, he sent an inaudible, A-nis. (Now.)

Ralf glanced between Merlin and the Sorcerer before making a snap decision. Pulling the vial containing his, Geoffrey, William and Merlin's blood from his pocket, he scooted outside the circle before sealing it closed with the blood and his wand.

"Ralf!" Geoffrey cried, moving close to the edge but not stepping over the line least he break the power of the magic.

Ralf ignored Geoffrey, turning just in time to see the anger on the Sorcerer's face. Quickly he palmed some potions from his pocket, murmured an incantation and threw it in the Sorcerer's direction. Unfortunately, at the exact same moment Piruz hurled a spell at Merlin. Ralf's and Piruz's spells collided in midair, sending an explosion of intense fire spiraling out from its core. Ralf's eyes widened comically as he quickly dropped to the ground. Glancing over at Merlin, their eyes met and he grimaced.

Chuckling amusedly, Merlin crouched down to avoid the flames. Sinking his fingers into the ground, he pulled power from the earth and sent it plowing toward Piruz.

When the ground split and cracked, Piruz leapt sideways in an attempt to avoid falling into the widening crevasse racing in his direction. Hissing out a frustrated cry, he collected his strength and hurled more spells as he dodged another jagged flash of lightening. Dropping beneath the limbs of a fallen oak, he said a short incantation and lobbed a fiery spell at Merlin in an attempt to distract the mage from his engagement. The spell, however, was intercepted by another flash of flame that came out of nowhere that Piruz could see. It had to be the young apprentice.

Merlin eyed the Sorcerer. The man just wouldn't concede; maybe couldn't concede. He did not wish for his death, but he could not allow him to continue hurting people. Grabbing shafts of sunlight, he balled it into a molten sphere. Touching the top, the sphere split into eight scorching hot daggers. Murmuring softly under his breath, he sent the daggers toward Piruz, not to kill but to trap.

Piruz jerked in surprise as eight flaming daggers hovered in the air surrounding him, waiting but not striking. "jaban," (coward) he muttered in derision. The mage hadn't the heart to finish the task. He had overestimated him. Piruz scrambled toward the Tree. He knew the black-haired young man had made a protection circle around it, but that was not a cause for concern; he knew how to get around protection circles. Lips twisted in a slight smile, he murmured an incantation under his breath as he moved closer, the flames still hot over his head, his cage of daggers moving apace. When he neared the edges of the circle, he threw the spell.

The magic crackled along the protection circle yet did not penetrate. Eyes wide in surprise, Piruz quickly marshaled another spell as the heat over his head diminished. He let the spell fly, but to no avail.

"Is mos non operari," Merlin said quietly. (That will not work.) With a slight wave of his hand, the flaming daggers faded.

Frustrated nearly beyond reason, Piruz climbed to his feet and faced Merlin, fists clenched. "Quid fecisti?" (What have you done?)

Merlin lifted his shoulder slightly, saying, "In arbore mea." (Made the Tree mine.)

Piruz's mouth dropped open, and his emotions stormed wildly. He wasn't sure exactly how he felt except out of control. For generations of time he had researched the method for his vengeance. More generations had been spent learning how to bring the Tree here from the other side, more in learning to use and control its power. And in the space of a length of sunlight moving across the ground, Merlin had undone all his work. In one furious second he unleashed a spell so powerful, the shaking of the earth, the tumbling of bushes and the falling of trees obscured all. Nothing but the deafening roar of a world in the throes of anguish filled the air.

Elation quickened Piruz's heart as finally, nature settled its turbulent roaring and silence reigned. Dust was everywhere, swirling gently as it returned lethargically to the ground. Slowly, as though through an image in a dream, a figure came into view. Shock stole the elation from his body; Merlin. Piruz's eyes darted to the side and saw Merlin's three comrades on their feet; two inside the circle, one just outside, watching him. Eyes darting back to Merlin, he found he had no words to give voice to his questions, so numerous were they.

Heart full of regret, Merlin watched the Sorcerer. So much power, so much creativity wasted on the fleeting and unrewarding quest of revenge. "Habes potestatem. Cur domui sue retinere?" (You have power. Why do you squander it?)

Piruz didn't respond. He merely watched the mage while at the same time he wondered whether he would be able to salvage anything from this confrontation.

Merlin looked as though he knew exactly what the Sorcerer was thinking. Glancing down with a grudging shake of his head, he sighed. There would be no reasoning with this man. Geoffrey was correct, William and Ralf were correct; the Sorcerer's heart was set on destruction and revenge. He'd known it himself, yet somewhere deep inside he had retained a glimmer of hope such a talented man could be reasoned with. Straightening his shoulders, he met the Sorcerer's eyes with a direct gaze of his own and said, "Vos postulo ut prohibere. Mihi vindicta nihil futurae. (You need to stop. Revenge has no future.)

Piruz ground his teeth a second before stating, "Non possum." (I cannot.)

"Deinde nos prohibere te." (Then we will stop you.)

Snorting softly, Piruz hissed, "In æternum vive: non te." (You will not live forever.)

"Non ego," Merlin answered as he lifted his arm to the three men standing nearby, "Sed sicut sunt custodes remanebit." (Not I, but they will remain as my guardians.)

"Et erit in æternum vive?" Piruz laughed. (So, they will live forever?)

An expression of enigmatic assurance crossed Merlin's face. "Ita, erunt." (Yes, they will.)

Piruz's face went blank. Here was a secret; one he already knew the mage would be unwilling to share. Secrets and magic, twined in mystery. There was nothing left here. Failure had been his lot this day, but it would not be his finale. Murmuring slightly, he said the spell that had saved him numerous times in the past. The small window in space opened, and he gave Merlin a nod, and stepped through.

Geoffrey and William had seen the window open and had rushed to the inner edge of the circle. However, they couldn't step across the line or the circle would break. They watched, impotent, as the Sorcerer stepped through the window and disappeared. Eyes turning to Merlin, they watched as their teacher and friend walked over to the spot where Piruz had stood only breaths before, lifted a hand and felt the magic there.

"Càit an deach e?" asked William. (Where has he gone?)

Merlin felt the magic of space and distance. "Gu àite eile." (Elsewhere.)

Ralf frowned. "Dè tha sin a 'ciallachadh?" (What does that mean?)

Not knowing how to explain a concept he only sensed rather than truly understood, Merlin merely shook his head. Moving away from the place where the Sorcerer disappeared, he came to the edge of the circle. Lifting a hand, he tapped the barrier lightly and it dropped.

Geoffrey closed his eyes as a breeze of cool air wafted across his sweaty face. The buzzing in his head intensified now that his mind was not occupied curtailing the violence of the villagers. A grunt nearby told him William was similarly affected. No one on the ground was stirring yet, and for that he was grateful.

Merlin went to Ralf and asked, "A bheil thu gu math?" (Are you well?)

Ralf grimaced slightly, but nodded.

Merlin looked up and assessed Geoffrey and William. Geoffrey was covered in dirt, grime and blood, his clothing a disheveled mess. A long gash ran the length of his face from his hairline down onto his neck. The leather tunic covering William's left shoulder was darkened with blood, though it appeared his arm remained strong enough to retain a sturdy grip on his broadsword. His garments were as sullied and torn as Geoffrey's. Glancing upward, Merlin knew the Tree needed to go back from wherever the Sorcerer had taken it. He suspected it was from the place he'd glimpsed through the window. Now he needed to figure out how to get it there.

Geoffrey studied Merlin for a moment, then said, "Fhad 's a tha thu a' dealbhadh na slighe gus a bhith a 'tòimhseachadh dhuinn de seo," he nodded in the direction of the Tree, "nì sinn sgrùdadh airson a 'bhaile, bheir sinn na daoine sin dhachaigh." (While you devise the path to ridding us of this, we will search for the village, take these people home.)

"Cuidich le bhith a 'tiodhlacadh nam marbh," William added. (Help bury the dead.)

Ralf stared around at the bodies, his heart sick. During the engagement he was aware of the fighting, of course. However, he had been too focused on making Merlin's circle to observe the battle. Now, his heart was wrenched. "Faodaidh sinn geas a dhìochuimhneachadh, nach urrainn dhuinn?" he asked, his tortured gaze going to Merlin. "Cha b 'urrainn don inntinn seasamh ris an eòlas a thug iad air ionnsaigh a thoirt air na nàbaidhean aca, an caraidean," he swallowed tightly and finished in barely a whisper, "an teaghlaichean." (We can make a spell of forgetting, can we not? Their minds could not withstand the knowledge they had attacked their neighbors, their friends, their families.)

Merlin nodded. "Faodaidh, is urrainn dhuinn." (We can, yes.)

"An uairsin gluaisidh sinn fhad 's a tha thu ag obair," William stated. (Then we will move while you work.) Turning, he began to climb the slope on the south side of the Tree, making quick time.

Geoffrey took a moment to clasp Ralf's shoulder in solidarity before he followed.

"Aon uair 's gu bheil thu air doused airson uisge, cruinnich cuid anns a' chraiceann uisge a bharrachd," Merlin said. "Stèidhich am pistil agus bobhla, an uairsin cuir a-mach na luibhean. Nì sinn dreach gus cuimhne atharrachadh agus cadal a bhrosnachadh." (Once you have doused for water, gather some in the spare water-skin, set up the pistil and bowl, then portion out the herbs. We will make a draft to alter memory and encourage sleep.)

Ralf's eyes went to the Tree as he nodded. Digging in his pack, he pulled out the spare skin and got to work.

.

Geoffrey and William had gone almost half a league when the forest thinned and they spied a small village nestled along the side of a hill.

William wiped the sweat from his face, his eyes on the trees and bushes leading into the town.

"Tha e a 'nochdadh fàsach," Geoffrey murmured. (It appears deserted.)

"Chan eil an rud a tha coltach ri sin an-còmhnaidh." (What appears to be so is not always.)

"Fìor fhìor, a charaid." Geoffrey watched the small thatched homes for any sign of movement. (Very true, my friend.)

They made their way through the last of the bushes and brambles before they stepped onto a narrow path which threaded its way down to the village. A deserted blacksmith and a small stable stood at the outer edge of the township. Spools of wool and burlap hung suspended from long cords in the window of a shop next door. They swung gently in the breeze wafting through the open door. As they moved cautiously up the dirt street, a sound on their left had them turning just in time to see a narrow door click shut.

Immediately on guard, William nodded to Geoffrey as they separated. William went around the back of the building while Geoffrey broached the front. Slowly he pulled the cord on the door and gave a light push. A small body collided with him as a very young boy darted out the door. He was just able to catch the back of the child's shirt before he hit the street.

"Entspann dich, junge," Geoffrey stated in Old Saxon. (Relax, boy.)

William hurried back around the building to find Geoffrey struggling with a small, human wildcat.

"Entspannen," Geoffrey repeated. (Relax.)

William looked up and frowned, having not understood the language.

Geoffrey explained, "Er spricht kein Gälisch." (He doesn't speak Gaelic.)

The child swung a small fist at Geoffrey's body. "Lass mich gehen!" (Let me go!)

"Bidh sin gu leòr de sin, laddie," William said, as he reached out and caught up the child to his chest. (That will be enough of that, laddie.)

"Du kannst uns nicht verletzen, du kannst nicht," the child screamed, tears making dirty tracks down his cheeks. (You cannot hurt us, you cannot.)

Geoffrey clicked his tongue, saying, "Hör auf zu kämpfen, kind. Hör auf zu kämpfen. Scheint es, als würde ich versuchen, dich zu verletzen?" (Stop fighting, child; stop fighting. Does it appear we are attempting to hurt you?)

The child stilled slightly as he realized he was only being held, not harmed. "Sie haben uns verletzt," the boy whispered. (They hurt us.)

Geoffrey felt his heart clenched as his eyes jerked up to William's. "Tha cuideigin air an goirteachadh," he repeated in Gaelic. (Someone hurt them.)

William knelt down before the child, who looked as though he was about six summers old. "Cò a rinn cron ort, a bhalaich?" (Who hurt you, lad?)

The child looked up at Geoffrey, who translated the question. Gulping, the child hiccupped slightly as he whispered, "Mama und Papa."

William's head dropped as he closed his eyes.

Geoffrey came around to face the child. Kneeling, he said, "Wie heißen Sie?" (What is your name?)

"Lanzo," the child whispered.

"Verstecken sich noch andere?" Geoffrey asked. (Are there others hiding?)

Lanzo nodded. "Ich habe sie versteckt." (I hid them.)

"Hast du?" Geoffrey murmured, giving the child a nod. "Du bist ein sehr mutiger Junge. Kannst du mir zeigen wo?" (You did? You are a very brave boy. Can you show me where?)

The child nodded. Shyly he took Geoffrey's hand and the odd trio started down the wide pathway through the village. Wind whistled through open windows and over barrels, and still they walked, past the edge of town and into the edges of the forest. Finally the child stopped beside what looked like a gin shack. Reaching over, he pulled open the door.

William felt his breath stopper in his chest at the sight. Inside, several small faces blinked up at him. "Morair Uile-chumhachdach." (Lord Almighty.)

Children from babies up to around twelve were huddled in the rickety shack, shivering as the elements seeped in through the gaps in the warped and weathered wood.

Geoffrey turned to William. "Fuirichidh mi an seo, bidh a 'chlann air an glanadh agus blàth. Cuidich Merlin le am pàrantan, agus ma tha dreach aige airson an fheadhainn bheaga ..." he shook his head. "Cha bu chòir dhaibh cuimhneachadh." (I'll stay here, aid the children in getting clean and warm. Help Merlin with their parents, and if he has a draft for the little ones ... They should not remember.)

William sighed and nodded. "Glè mhath." (Very well.) Turning to the small boy who'd led them there, he gave the child a smile and said, "Tillidh mi." (I shall return.)

The boy looked to Geoffrey, who translated, "Er wird bald zurückkehren."

The child nodded and gave the large man a tentative smile as William rose and strode quickly back through the village to where Merlin and Ralf were working, vengeance in his own heart at the horror the Sorcerer had perpetuated on these innocent people.

Geoffrey looked back at the children, smiled. "Lass uns aufwärmen und etwas zu essen bekommen." (Let us be warm and get something to eat.)

The children nodded and began clamoring from the shack, one delivering a small baby into Geoffrey's surprised hands. Lanzo smiled and took the tiny girl. "Wir können in die Kirche gehen." (We can go to the church.)

"Ein ausgezeichneter Vorschlag," Geoffrey agreed. (An excellent proposal.)

.

Four hours later Merlin stood beside the Tree again. Weary in body and spirit, he stared up at the beautiful exhibit of God's creation. A dark, rich piece of fruit hung tantalizingly near him, just out of reach. He was tempted to take a bite, but instead turned his back and walked away.

Following the battle, he and Ralf had finished an amnesia draft before beginning the gruesome task of separating the dead from the living. Once the task had been completed, Merlin was gratified to see there were fewer causalities than he'd originally feared. Still, any loss from this small hamlet was a tragedy.

"An seo," (here) Ralf murmured, handing Merlin an oddly shaped drinking cup. The vessel was shaped like a pear with a small spout emerging from one side of the larger lower half. A small cork stoppered the end of the spout.

Merlin nodded. Pouring the potion into the oddly-shaped cup, he moved to one of the unconscious people; a young woman with silvery blond hair. Gently he tugged opened her mouth, pulled the stopper from the spout, and poured a trickle of potion past her full lips and went on to the next. Ralf, with a similar cup, moved from person to person beside Merlin, trickling the potion down people's throats. As they were finishing their work, William returned alone, and explained about the children in the village.

Over the next couple of hours, Ralf, Geoffrey and William worked on transporting the villagers back to their town with the use a wobbly horse cart that had seen better decades. Rather than a horse, they found a docile cow to pull the sleeping villagers back to their town, relocating every living adult to the church to lie alongside the sleeping children. Ralf had collected as many blankets as he could and was making the townspeople as comfortable as possible. William found the apothecary's dwelling, and there they put the seven dead; five men and two women. Ralf came, said a prayer and covered the bodies in bay laurel and parsley to preserve them for burial. When he finished, he stepped quietly out of the small shop and closed the door.

.

Geoffrey loped down the slight hill. The uncomfortable buzzing in his head grew the closer he got to the Tree. Sighing, he walked over to where Merlin sat, working. "A bheil thu air an tòimhseachan fhuasgladh?" (Have you solved the puzzle?)

Merlin turned to view his friend. Instead of giving an immediate answer to Geoffrey's question, he asked, "A bheil a h-uile càil gu math anns a 'bhaile?" (Is all well in the village?)

Geoffrey sighed and dropped down beside the mage. He was wrecked over the entire situation. "Chaidh an carbad mu dheireadh de dh 'inbhich fhalamhachadh san eaglais. Tha Uilleam na sheasamh gus an dùisg aon de na h-inbhich." (The last wagon of men and women was emptied at the church. William is standing guard till one of the adults awakens.)

"Agus Ralf?" (And Ralf?)

"Bidh e na shuidhe leis a 'chloinn." (He sits with the children.)

Merlin started to ask why, then smiled. Of course Ralf would sit with the children until an adult could see to their welfare. He would want no child to waken alone.

Geoffrey merely stared at the Tree, waiting for Merlin to answer his question.

Rising, Merlin took a step away from the young Knight to walk the perimeter of the Tree. He starred up at the incredible beauty; a dangerous beauty that could not stay in this world. Even he could feel the tug of good intentions and wicked building within his soul. He glanced over at Geoffrey, curious as to whether the younger man was experiencing the same inner conflict despite the protection pouch around his neck. Yes, he had devised a means to send the Tree back from whence it came. Whether it worked or not would be determined at the spell's completion. He hoped it would, as it was the only plan he had

Striding over to his pack, he picked up his wand. Turning to Geoffrey, he said, "Feumaidh mi thu a bhith gad ghiùlan fhèin mar a chanas mi." (I need you to act as I say.)

Immediately Geoffrey nodded.

Merlin walked to the north side of the Tree. Bending low, he used his wand to begin another circle. When he reached the western side, he left a blank space equal to twelve barleycorns then continued south. On the east side of the Tree, he again left a blank space in the circle, then continued until he reached his starting point. After taking a moment to survey the circle, he walked over to the blank space on the western side. Touching his wand to the circle on the right side of the open space, he drew another loop outward before connecting it to the other side of the space. It looked like half a bubble in the circle. Moving to the eastern side, he did the same, only on this side he stopped just shy of closing the loop. When he stood back, he had a nearly completed circle, with a cupola on either side.

Returning to Geoffrey's side, he said, "Tha mi ag iarraidh gun cuir thu earbsa annam." (I ask that you trust me.)

Geoffrey's brows rose in surprise. Instead of the quick assurance that had leapt to his lips, he stopped himself and took a moment to study the mage. Finally he said, "Tha e agad." (You have it.)

Merlin motioned for Geoffrey to step into the cupola on the western side of the circle. He handed over a wand, then placed something cool and metal into the young Knight's hand. "Cuir seo ort agus dèan mar a chì thu mi a 'dèanamh." (Wear this and do as you see me do.)

Geoffrey looked down at the silver band in his hand, then up at the mage and nodded.

Merlin then walked around the Tree to the eastern side and stepped inside the cupola. Taking a deep breath, he closed the circle. When he finished, he looked across the large, oddly shaped circle to Geoffrey and smiled. "Na biodh sgàth ort." (Do not be afraid.)

Geoffrey smiled. "Leat, chan eil mi." (With you, I am not.)

Merlin closed his eyes, marshaled all his inner strength and reached out into nature and pulled the bounty from the earth. When he started speaking, the wind wiped up and the skies churned with power. Power rose within the circle as he slowly raised his hands into the air. As the magic rose, so did his voice as he spoke. When he thought he couldn't take the pressure of all the magic building inside the circle, he threw his hands out and shouted as a blinding light blasted upward and out, obliterating the circle.

.

Several days later…

Merlin looked at the three men sitting around the narrow table in his small home, men who had left all they'd known to be the beginning of a legacy that would span generations. They trusted him with their lives and their futures. Smiling, he said, "Is tu triùir a 'chiad bhall den Bhràithreachas. Bidh am Bràithreachas mar luchd-dìon mac an duine. Bidh thu a 'sabaid ris na h-uilebheistean agus na creutairean mì-nàdarrach a tha a' cuairteachadh na talmhainn, agus a 'toirt taic dhaibhsan nach urrainn sabaid air an son fhèin. Bidh mòran a 'tighinn còmhla ris an cogadh-croise againn, agus bidh thu gan stiùireadh, gan trèanadh, a' cumail sùil air an son agus a 'sabaid rin taobh."

(You three are the first members of the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood will be the protectors of mankind. You will fight the monsters and unnatural creatures that roam the earth, and champion those who cannot fight for themselves. Many will join our crusade, and you will lead them, train them, watch out for them and fight beside them.)

Standing, Merlin walked around the table to the young, black-haired Seer. "Ralf, mo charaid òg, idealistic. Bidh d 'eòlas, do cheasnachd, d' acras airson eòlas agus do thiodhlac seallaidh mar chomharradh air Sgoilear an Triad bho seo a-mach." (Ralf, my young, idealistic friend. Your intelligence, your curiosity, your hunger for knowledge and your gift of sight will be a sign of the Scholar of the Triad from henceforth.) Reaching out, he lifted his fingers and touched Ralf on each side of his temple.

Ralf blinked. He felt like the world had been opened to him as light erupted in his head.

Merlin winked at the willowy young man before turning to William. To the large warrior, he held out a substantial blade with a black stone handle and red markings intricately decorating the handle moving down along the blade. "Uilleam. Tha thu nad ghaisgeach cumhachdach le cridhe Ridire agus misneachd gladiator. Tha an lann seo an urra ri Ridire a 'Bhràithreachais." (William. You are a mighty warrior with the heart of a Knight and the courage of a gladiator. This blade is entrusted to the Knight of the Brotherhood.)

William didn't immediately take the blade. Instead he frowned and repeated, "Am Bràithreachas?" (The Brotherhood?)

"Tha dorchadas anns an t-saoghal seo; creutairean agus creutairean a bhios a 'cleachdadh na h-oidhche agus na faileasan gus cron a dhèanamh air na neo-chiontach. Tha feum aig an t-saoghal air curaidhean. Bidh an triùir agad a 'stiùireadh na mealltaichean, Triad air a dhèanamh suas de Sgoilear, Ridire," he smiled at William, "agus Neach-dìon," he nodded to Geoffrey. "Thusa," he turned back to William, "is iad a 'chiad Ridire a' Bhràithreachais, earbsa leis a 'ghnìomh airson an Neach-dìon a dhìon, an toiseach; agus a h-uile duine eile às deidh. Is e seo do chlaidheamh."

(There is darkness in this world; creatures and beings that use the night and its shadows to harm the innocent. The world is in need of champions. Thou will lead the fighters, a Triad composed of a Scholar, a Knight, [he smiled at William,] and a Guardian, [he nodded to Geoffrey.] You, [he turned back to William] are the very first Knight of the Brotherhood, entrusted with the task of protecting the Guardian, first; and all others thereafter. This will be your sword.)

William's head felt frozen, his mind unable to grasp the enormity of the task Merlin had lain out before them. Slowly his eyes dropped to the magnificent blade the mage held out. Lifting a hand, he clasped the black stone handle and instantly felt the mystical power that flowed from the blade into his body. Eyes wide, his head jerked up. "Dè th 'ann?" (What is it?)

"Mo chumhachd, mo dhraoidheachd a 'sabaid tromhad," Merlin stated. (My power, my magic fighting through you.)

William stared down at the blade again, maneuvering it through the air, noting its perfect balance. "Mo thaing." (My thanks.)

Turning to Geoffrey, he smiled. "Geoffrey. Is tusa an t-anam, an spiorad, an combaist moralta agus stiùiriche a 'Bhràithreachais. Tha earbsa agad mu an sàbhailteachd agus an àm ri teachd. Thoir aire dhaibh." (Geoffrey. You are the soul, the spirit, the moral compass and the leader of The Brotherhood. To you I entrust their safety and their future. Take care of them.)

Geoffrey nodded. "Nì mi sin." (I will.)

William and Ralf watched the two for a few moments before William said, "Dè thug thu do Geoffrey?" (What hath thou given Geoffrey?)

Merlin smiled. "Chan e na rudan as urrainn dhomh a thoirt do Geoffrey; is e seo as urrainn dha Geoffrey a thoirt don Bhràithreachas." (Tis not what I can give Geoffrey; tis what Geoffrey can give the Brotherhood.)

Frowning, Ralf asked, "Dè a dh 'fhaodadh sin a bhith?" (What may that be?)

Merlin smiled. "Cridhe." (Heart.)

Geoffrey smiled back, his head ducking slightly. His right finger rubbed lightly at the warm, silver band on his hand. Later tonight, he would give both Ralf and William the first rings of the Brotherhood, and they would be connected forever. The future began with them, and he desperately wanted the future to be proud.

.

TBC

Author's Notes:

Merlin, Geoffrey, William and Ralf are speaking Ancient Gaelic. Whenever Piruz is speaking, he and those replying are speaking Latin.

Geoffrey speaks to the child in Old Saxon (Old Saxon = Low German, so I'm using plain German.)

In case you were wondering:

Furlong = an eighth of a mile / 8 furlongs = 1 mile

Rod = a medieval unit of measure; equals 5 ½ yards.

Punct = a quarter of an hour in Medieval Europe.

Dousing = a type of divination used in searching for water/ground water.

League = 3 miles

3 barleycorns = 1 inch