Le Mort d'Arthur
Part One
AN: Sorry for the long Hiatus and thank you for all the messages and reviews that people have taken the time to send me. It has been a very long and difficult year but the continuing response from readers has encouraged me to keep on with this story. Thank you so much! The Merlin fandom is fantastic!
Is anyone interested in being a beta reader?
It was quiet. The unnatural silence unsettling the hunter. Prince Arthur knew that the roles of this ancient game of predator and prey could change instantly and not in his favor. Gaius had taken him aside after the audience with the King. The old man insistent that the Prince listen to him.
"Please listen to me, Sire. The King may not acknowledge the Old Religion, but it is very real. To face a beast such as this, you must understand where it came from."
Gaius had been one of the steadiest influences in his life. But the subject of the old religion was as unsettling to the Prince as it was to his father. However he found himself listening to the old man's warning.
"At the very heart of the Old Religion lies the magic of life and death itself. The Questing Beast carries that power. One bite, you die, and there is no cure."
There was no choice though. The serpent headed monster had already taken many lives, terrorizing the small villages to the west of Camelot. It had claimed the life of one of his best knights only the day before when his patrol narrowly escaped the beast.
Now he, Glen and four of his best men were out in search of the monster that had caused even the birds to flee. So far the days search had been fruitless but Arthur could not shake the feeling the beast was within his grasp… or he the beasts.
The scream that rent though the air was not the inhuman screech of the serpent headed creature, but the very human scream of a woman. And it was not alone. For soon the cries of men and women reached them. Instinctively the Knights reacted, charging toward the sounds of a furious struggle.
As one they reached the edge of a rise and looked down onto the road that passed through the forest. Arthur's heart stopped at the sight of the overturned carriage, what was left of the Pendragon crest visible despite the claw marks that had ripped through the wood.
Morgana…Merlyn.
The bodies of three guards lay in gruesome pieces amongst the carnage, the serpent headed creature circling the box with the trapped women inside. With a shriek it raised up on his back legs before throwing its body forward, down onto the carriage. The wooden box groaned with the onslaught but miraculously held, the feminine screams from the carriage only encouraging the beast.
It was then he saw the small lone figure of a woman some way from the carriage, aiming a crossbow at the beast. Merlyn. When the creature raised on his hind legs she fired. But she was no bow man. The arrow pieced the creatures shoulder. The beast howled, his attention fixed on the tiny figure who ran toward the cover of the trees, just to the right of the hunting party.
"Fire." He ordered his men who had taken aim at the beast, before they followed his path down toward the battle. The creature was momentarily distracted by the men's attack, but recovered his footing and charged into the forest after the handmaiden.
Running parallel to the fleeing woman, Arthur watched as Merlyn dodged the creature, moving swiftly between the trees at an impressive speed, the creature gaining on her, the knights were hard pressed to follow her. Merlyn seemed to know exactly where she was going and within a few seconds, the entrance of a cave materialised in the hillside before her. She quickly scrambled inside, the creature following.
Merlyn liked Sir Tomas' home. It was a fine castle, small compared to Camelot but still an impressive sight. It was built in the ruins of an older fort from leaders of the past. The surrounding town was quiet and pleasant, the population of Alderwood was less than a third of those that resided in Camelot. Still considerable more than her little hamlet in Ealdor, she had mused as she had wondered though the town on a rare morning off.
Alderwood, was a strong heavily armed outpost close to the borders of both Cendred's Lands and Mercia. Uther had put on of his most trusted nobles in charge of an important strategic position. An alliance between the two families would only strengthen the Kingdom. No wonder the Lady Guinevere was considered a suitable match for the Kings son.
The past few weeks had passed without incident, the Lady Morgana had relaxed as soon as she'd escaped the walls of Camelot, all the stress of the preceding weeks melting away as Lady Rosette lavish attention on her guest. Even her nightmares had left her.
Merlyn had begun to miss Camelot. She missed her drafty room and her evening meals with her Uncle in his peculiarly smelling chambers. She missed Glyndwr and his company as he escaped his master for a few hours and attempted to help her with her chores. She missed Arthur, part of her worried about what mischief he would be getting into without her to watch his back.
So the violent return of Morgana's nightmares surprised and terrified her as well as her mistress.
Morgana's scream had woken her from a deep sleep and sent her flying into her mistress's quarters, expecting to see an intruder in the room. Instead she found Morgana, sat bolt upright in bed, terrified.
"Merlyn!" Morgana grabbed her handmaiden in a tight grip, her fingers digging into her flesh. "Oh my Gods…Merlyn…Arthur…Its going to kill him. He's in danger…" She broke off in to gut wrenching sobs which sent chills down the younger girl's spine.
Long after the Lady Morgana drifted off into a drugged sleep, Merlyn sat at the window looking out at the night sky, feeling a heavy sense of foreboding. She told herself it was only Morgana's worries about returning to Camelot the next morning that had caused the nightmare. Nothing more. But her gut did not believe it.
The feeling got worse as the carriage drew closer to Camelot, Lady Morgana uncharacteristically silent, as were Lady Guinevere and Eira having sensed the mood of their companions.
Perhaps that air of trepidation was why, when the inhuman shriek pierced the air, she was quick to act. As the carriage was tossed as if it were driftwood into the air and overturned several times, she managed to keep the box intact, protecting its screaming occupants. The horrible cries of agony from the men outside adding to their panic.
Merlyn climbed out of the broken window, to see what had attacked them. The sight of the scaly, serpent-headed demon was truly terrifying. She whispered a harsh whisper to the occupants of the carriage to be quiet and stay put before making her way, through wreckage and more horrifyingly parts of the horses torn to pieces, keeping out of slight of the creature feasting on the remains of one of the guards. She had seen a crossbow sticking out of a muddy puddle and was making her way toward it. Seeing the creature make its way to the carriage she muttered a quick spell, reinforcing the original, protecting the trapped women.
A flash of red caught her attention and she looked up, surprised to see the distinctive capes of the Knight of Camelot. She couldn't see him, but she just knew the Prince was one of them.
Taking a deep breath she aimed at the creature. She was out in the open, she couldn't use her magic, but maybe she could hit the creature, distract it. She knew there were caves near here. All she had to do was lure it away and they would be fine.
Though sheer luck she hit its shoulder, enough to slow it down. Enraged the creature turned on her and she fled. Reaching the trees, she dodged and weaved, all too aware of the beast rampaging behind her, the groan of trees being pushed aside. She ran on, the caves in sight and dove into the darkness of the shelter, scrambling up the rocks and down one of the tunnels leading into the hillside.
Flattening herself against the walls of her tunnel she waited with bated breath for the creature to pass, his heavy breathing masking hers. It scurried in quickly, the shouts of the chasing knights hurrying it forward. She waited a few minutes before starting back toward the entrance, the faint daylight in the distance, her ears pricked for danger. She froze for a brief moment as a shape blocked the light but relaxed and hurried toward the outline of the man at the entrance to the cave.
"Merlyn!" It hissed, but before she could reply, there was a sudden flurry of movement and she was brushed aside, a strong arm pulling her away from danger as a scaled arm darted out toward her. Arthur barely managed to knock her out of the way before the creature was upon them.
There was a brief struggle which ended with Arthur being thrown against the opposite wall of the tunnel. She could hear the heavy approaching footsteps of the Knights running towards them. Running out of time she quickly focused on Arthurs dropped sword, summoning it with her mind and burnishing it with the deadliest enchantment she could recall before sending it flying into the beast's chest.
The beast reared back roaring in agony as it staggered backwards before letting out a long keening wail as it dropped to the floor and was still.
The footsteps appeared from several directions, as Knights emerged from various tunnels that branched off the entrance.
The Prince lay still on the ground.
Hours later she found herself in his chambers, reliving a distraught Glyndwr, who had stayed by the Princes side since he was laid on his bed. His death bed. Some hung on to the tiny flicker of hope that the young man would rally. But most knew that without a miracle, the Prince would not see beyond the next sunrise.
As she sat there, she gently ran the cold compress over his arms and feverish brow, hoping it at least gave him comfort. She would not allow him to pass into the next life. For what was hers without it. The furious argument she had had with her uncle had forced truths from her that she had hidden so deeply, she was herself shocked by them.
"If he dies I might as well die myself!" She had burst out as her Uncle tried to persuade her against her plan.
"What is the point of me? Of this so called gift if I cannot use it to save him!"
As she traced the features of the Princes face gently with her fingertips she found herself whispering, telling him secrets she had kept close to her. Her heart leapt into her throat when he seemed to stir, rubbing his cheek into her touch as she cradled his face, but he soon settled, sliding back into dreams.
She was resolved. She would leave as soon as the Lady Guinevere arrived to take over from her, bound for the Isle of the Blessed and to trade her life for his. This would be the last time she saw him.
Leaning over she took in his features, looking beyond the grey pallor and sweaty, flushed face and sweat damp hair. She traced his lips with her fingertips, remembering the feel of them as he had kissed her. Before she lost her nerve she brought her head closer and gently touched her mouth to his. Just a gentle pressure against his dry lips. She was unaware of the tear that had slid down her cheek until it fell from hers to his. Her eyes moved from the tear to his eyes, beyond surprised to see the Princes half lidded gaze on her. The bright blue eyes she secretly adored were glazed as they seemed to fix on her.
"Do not worry." She told him. "You will live. I swear it." Her hands still framing his face she stroked the flushed cheeks with her thumbs. Hearing the creak of wood, signalling the end of her vigil, she regretfully removed her hands as his eyelids slid shut, just as the chamber door opened admitted the Lady Guinevere.
"How is he?" She asked the younger woman, Eira entering the room after her with fresh water and linen, Gaius on her heels with new medications to replace the empty vials.
"He stirred a little this morning but no real change."
"He looks more comfortable, his skin is perhaps a touch less flushed." Guinevere observed, looking at the physician hesitantly. Gaius quickly examined his patient before shooting a look at Merlyn.
"Sometimes in the hours before death, a person can rally for a while and appear to be recovering before slipping away. He is still fighting the infection. Where there is life there is hope."
Crestfallen the Lady nodded as she took Merlyn's place by the Princes bedside. Gaius gently pulled Merlyn to the side.
"He does appear a little better this morning, but Merlyn, you might stave off death but you cannot cure him. It is beyond you."
"I didn't do anything, Uncle." She protested. "I just sat with him." Gaius looked her doubtfully but accepted her account. He opened his mouth to continue when he saw the Kings approach. He gently hurried her off. He was not as oblivious as his niece believed. He feared for her.
She was innocent, a beautiful soul. But the perilous times she lived in could turn even the well-intended. And the love she had for the Prince, and Arthur's reciprocation of her regard, was as dangerous as her magic.
She gripped the map that Gaius had reluctantly given her tightly in cold hands as she sat in the unmanned boat. The small craft sliced though the still water and air on its path into the grand ruins emerging though the ominous mist surrounding the island.
Kilgharrah had called it the Isle of the Blessed, the heart of the Old Religion.
"The questing beast is a creature conjured by the powers of the Old Religion. The same ancient magic is the only force able to save him...The Old Religion is the magic of the earth itself, the essence that binds all things together. It will last long, beyond the time of men."
The ground beneath her felt as if it was vibrating under her feet, the air growing heavy with a force that raised the fine airs on her arms. The power here was ancient. And not as dormant as men thought. The oldest, purest magic thrived here amongst the ruins of the castle.
Following an unknown instinct, she slowly made her way through a rarely travelled path. Indeed only one other person had walked these forgotten halls in the past twenty years.
Nimeah.
"Find those who still serve it, who hold dominion over life and death."
Emerging into the heart of the structure, the sun streamed through the gap in the clouds, illuminating the stone alter, and the familiar figure waiting beside it.
Cara. Of course. Merlyn thought, recognising the powerful priestess as the young maidservant that had so nearly killed her with the poisoned Chalice. Nimeah was beautiful, tall and willowy with piecing azure eyes and creamy skin. Her long shiny hair draped over her shoulders merging with robes which had once been impressive, but now looked as if they had seen better days. Indeed once they had, as had the priestess wearing them.
"Hello Merlyn," She smirked, showing no visible sign of the astonishment she felt at the way the magic danced in the air around the new arrival.
"Nimeah,"
Guinevere took the compress away from a sleepy Morgana and urged the other woman to rest, promising to wake her if there was any change. Morgana's exhaustion, both physical and emotional was such that she agreed to with little resistance.
Guinevere had always considered herself to be a perceptive woman. Knowledgeable, observant and open minded. She had been consumed with worry over her dearest friend. The Morgana who had welcomed her to Camelot a few months ago, was not the Morgana who had been her friend for many years. This Lady Morgana was unrecognisable to the young girl who had befriended her years ago when she had first journeyed to Camelot.
This Lady Morgana was anxious, high strung and suspicious. The crush she had harboured on the Kings son had evolved and grown, although it was clear to Guinevere that Arthur did not encourage or welcome her affection. It had not stopped Morgana from marking her territory, warning off the other Ladies of the court with a cruel tongue. And although Morgana had been initially happy to see her, she quickly realised one of the purposes of her visits.
Prince Arthur was no saint. He was arrogant and charismatic, often enjoying a good flirt with the ladies at balls and festivals. But no single woman had ever been singled out, at least not publically, which had become an issue for the King.
Sir Tomas and her mother had been not too subtly pushing her at the Prince and although she liked Arthur, he did not set her heart racing like a set of dark mysterious eyes that lingered in her memory.
Seeing him, lying on his bed, fighting for every agonising breath, she mourned his lost. For he would be missed, Arthur and the promising future that had been foreseen under his reign. For all his temper and arrogance, his kindness and fairness still shone though. And the past few months had shown a maturity that she had not noticed before. The change in him since her previous visit had been profound and although she did not love him, she knew she could be happy with him. After all love takes time, her parents didn't fall in love until after her brother was born.
She was startled out of her thoughts by the arrival of Glyndwr, the young boy carefully carrying a bucket of fresh water into the room. Glen looked pale and haggard, exhaustion and worry aging his face. He had barely left Arthurs side since the Prince had been wounded.
She picked up a new piece of linen, dunking it in the cooler water. As she wrung out the cloth and pressed it to his clammy forehead, Arthur's eyes sprung open at her touch. According to Morgana he would sometimes respond to them, mostly opening his eyes and mumbling, but this was the first time she had witnessed it.
"Arthur," she breathed, surprised when the glazed blue eyes looked lazily at her, a long slow blink following. Glen moved to the bedside and the princes eyes flickered to him. The prince croaked something before wetting his lips, his eyes then wandering around the room, searching for someone.
"Where…she?" He asked in an almost soundless whisper.
"Lady Morgana will be here soon. She's just resting." Guinevere quickly reassured. But Arthur was not comforted.
"Not her…" Arthur's voice trailed off, the few words he uttered sapping him of his strength as he slipped back into unconsciousness.
Not her. Not Morgana or Guinevere. Then who? She turned to face Glen who looked uncomfortable and resolutely avoided her questioning gaze. The Princes manservant knew who Arthur was looking for. Her curiosity was getting the best of her. She opened her mouth to ask the question Glen seemed to be desperate for her to forget, when the door opened with a long creak and Lady Morgana entered. The brief flicker of alarm in Glen's eyes as they shot to hers stilled her tongue.
Hours past, she and a marginally refreshed Morgana and Eira sat in vigil over the fallen Prince. Rapid footsteps approached the door which swung open in suppressed haste, revealing a rain soaked Merlyn and a gasping Gaius. The pair approached the bed purposely, Merlyn momentarily shocking the Ladies by climbing on to it and lifting the Princes body up, sliding behind his upper body to sit him up.
Gaius wasted no time in bringing the sliver flask to the Princes lips, Merlyn tenderly holding Arthur's head and whispering to him. Guinevere watched Arthur's face relax and his eyelids slide barely open. He seemed to look right into Merlyn's eyes and do her bidding, swallowing the tincture.
She listened to the King and Morgana demand answers from Gaius but her eyes stayed on Merlyn as she carefully lowered the Princes limp body back to the mattress. Merlyn briefly rested her hand on his and Guinevere saw Arthur's thumb lightly brush against her fingers in a barely there response. The young girl smiled before straightening her face and body, stepping away from the bed as Arthur's eyes slid shut.
Such a subtle, barely there exchange, completely unobserved by all but her. So subtle, Guinevere wasn't exactly sure whether what she had seen was indicative of anything other than a servant aiding her master. Maybe she was reading too much into it.
As they were all hurried from the room, she heard Morgana's earnest mutterings of hope as she pestered Gaius for details of this miracle plant they may yet save Arthur. Yet she watched Merlyn who suddenly seemed exhausted. Well she had been on horseback all day searching for this plant all day. Gaius seemed to notice this as well and made their excuses, herding his niece back to their chambers to dry up.
Before the sun set that day, Camelot was celebrating the Princes recovery.
TBC
AN: The second part will be more from Merlyn's POV. I hope to have it before Xmas. Thank you so much for reading. Please review and any suggestions or criticisms are very welcome.