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CHAPTER 3
From black purple to foxy red
He found her exactly where he had intended to drop her: in his own cot. Reaching her in three long strides, he immediately checked her breath. Gone! Merlin felt how his own was about to leave him as well and shot out his hand to let it hover over her mouth and whispered lungenna áblæwap. He felt his hand sizzle and power surged from his mind, through his hand and downwards onto her lungs that gave way with rapid little huffs, her pulmonary system fighting to get into rhythm again. Merlin proceeded to draw out the poisonous smoke in her lungs and put another hand on her chest to stabilise the breathing. Once he was certain that she had been brought back to life, he started looking at her more closely, and what he saw was frightening: If the young girl had been copper red already (possibly from the sun), it was nothing compared to the burning red hue of her now. Blisters on her face, chest, upper arms and neck looked ready to burst and the angry hue was of a fiercer colour than his neckerchief. Merlin gasped, wondering if he really could heal this.
"Salt water and lady's bedstraw!" came a voice from the door frame. Merlin whipped round to see his old mentor. "Lady's bedstraw is illegal," Merlin pointed out.
"Illegal be damned," Gaius exclaimed, "we can't leave her like this."
The two of them nodded at each other, in perfect accord. Merlin got the salt water and Gaius the plant that he prepared with a short spell. One hour later, the solution was ready. Merlin had been placing cloths soaked in distilled water on her blisters all the while he had been speaking soothingly to her. He didn't know if she was able to hear him; she hadn't opened her eyes yet, but he knew it was important to the healing process to set the mind at peace.
Gaius moved to his left and replaced the distilled water with the salt water and lady's bedstraw and his apprentice started soaking the cloths in the new solution. Already after the first batch of bedstraw cloths, the skin started losing some of their tomato red hue. "Amazing," Merlin murmured; Gaius nodded, "yes, lady's bedstraw, once magically prepared, really is quite miraculous. Such a shame that Uther won't let us use it."
After the second batch, the blisters had subsided to a non-dangerous state and the girl would be able to open her eyes and use her mouth. Merlin started to dab the places that were particularly scorched and she opened her eyes just as he reached her neck. Merlin jerked back at the sight of her auburn eyes that first stared into the air and then sidetracked to seek out his face. Then he returned to the dabbing, reassuring her:
"It's all right. You'll be safe here, and you're healing fast."
She opened her mouth and croaked, starting to cough a little which made her face convulse in pain. Merlin put a soothing hand on her chest again and sent out a mute calming spell that helped instantly. Phyllida was slowly becoming conscious, feeling a warm, calm hand on her chest that seemed to clean her lungs. A healer? She blinked her eyes. How did she end up here again?
"Where … am I?" she huffed.
Merlin felt a little surprised at the sound of her voice. It sounded a lot more mature than he would have thought. When it had screamed out on top of the pyre, it had sounded young and afraid.
"You're in our home," Gaius assured her, "do not worry. No one will find you here."
Her eyes wandered uneasily from the young man to the old and then she recognised them both. They had been in the dungeons! They had been in the square! She had addressed the young one that she had recognised as Merlin Emrys (no point in addressing that particular issue now, she quickly decided – maybe he would stop helping her once she had blurted out the message?).
"How … did I get here?"
Merlin and Gaius looked at each other. At a loss for words, Merlin left it to his friend to do the honours. "Merlin … stole you away from the pyre once you were unconscious," he attempted. They both saw a flash of intense distrust in the girl's eyes, more than proving that her mind had fully recovered and wasn't fooled that easily. "What? He's made of asbestos?" she suggested in searing sarcasm. Their eyes and faces conveyed puzzlement. They don't know what asbestos is?
"Never mind," she added, "I am grateful … have you called the Police?"
If at all possible, the two of them looked even more bewildered.
"Polees?" Gaius asked. Phyllida's eyes widened. Oh, no. They were keeping it up even now.
Not having the energy to berate them or knock it into their thick skulls that now was not the time to play medieval, the archaeologist sighed and closed her eyes. She had never been more deadly tired and exhausted in her life. The mysteriously vanishing camp, the attempt on her life, the rescue … From one second to the other, the young girl fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.
x
When Arthur turned in later that night, it was an uncharacteristically taciturn manservant that met him in his chambers. The prince watched the young lanky man as he pulled the curtains and methodically prepared the washing bowl for his master's toilette. There was no smile on his lips, no attempt to sound chipper, no insults thrown at his royal master. The entire countenance spoke of one preoccupied by something else that his chores. The prince sighed audibly.
"Okay, Merlin – out with it. What's wrong?"
Merlin jumped, having been deeply engrossed in his thoughts. "What? Nothing."
Arthur smirked, "Puuu-lease. It is so obvious. When you're actually getting things right and not bouncing round clumsily, that's when you're brooding over something. Come now – tell me."
Merlin shook his head, "it's just … that pyre today."
Arthur's face fell, "that was indeed a mystery. I have seen many pyres in my lifetime; in fact, more than I care to remember, but I have never seen a body become so consumed by flames. There was nothing left for the physician to examine."
"Do you think she escaped?" Merlin suggested carefully. Arthur shook his head.
"No way. There was no escape. But the flames did lick up rather violently at some point. I wonder if that was some ..."
"Yes?"
"Well, I don't know, Merlin. Some spell of hers, perhaps … to ensure a fast death."
Merlin shivered. "Could be," he said in a low voice. "It wasn't pretty," the prince granted him, his face drawn.
Feigning, thus, an appalled reaction to the whole witch-burned-to-a-crisp-thing, enabled Merlin to leave the prince earlier than usual and check up on Gaius' and his unusual guest. Gaius was working in the lab and nodded when Merlin opened the door. The relaxed face of the physician made him emit a sigh of relief. Apparently, the young girl was still alive. The young sorcerer quickly threw down the prince's laundry and went to his room to see if she had awoken.
She was still lying in his cot; Gaius had wrapped something about her ribcage that would help heal her broken ribs just as he had treated all her other cuts and bruises that she had had when being 'debriefed'. The salt water and lady's bedstraw had quickly done away her blisters and sunburn and it was now a very differently looking girl that was peacefully sleeping in front of him. The only feature that looked pretty much like itself was her abnormally coloured hair of purplish black. In fact, he remembered that this was the first feature that had drawn his attention to her. And this gave him an idea.
Merlin went to her side and leaning down, he took a lock of her hair in his hand and scrutinised it thoroughly, using a little golden eye flash insight. Shortly, the hair glowed with a peculiar shine. Gaius had been right! The hair was painted. Merlin shut his eyes and placing a flat hand over her forehead, murmured: ábýwap.
Instantly her shoulder long wavy hair glowed and the dark dye seemed to dissolve into a million little particles that Merlin waved away. The warlock smiled at the result. The girl had carrot red hair that complemented her fair skin and freckled face much better. Then he jerked as he heard her emit a hiss and her eyes were opened rather suddenly.
"Hush," he hastened to assure her, "you're safe! It's all right."
She blinked at him, "Is the Police here?" she asked hoarsely.
Merlin handed her a cup of water that she gulped thirstily and shook his head, "I don't know what you mean by 'police'."
"The authorities," she explained. Merlin split open in a grin. "No, no. You need not worry."
Then all of a sudden, the frail woman in front of him turned into a fierce beast that grabbed his collar and drew him so close that he felt her breath on his nose.
"You fool," she hissed, "I want them here!"
"But they would kill you," he said as calmly as he could, though it felt very much like she was about to beat the living daylight out of him.
"No, no – I mean the real authorities – the authorities of Wales!"
"What is Wales?" the voice belonged to Gaius, who had heard them talk. The girl turned her head to the old man, pinning him with watering eyes that finally understood that those two could not help her. Her expression was so full of sorrow and despair that it made Gaius sit down by her on the cot and taking her hand to pat it, kindly asked her what her name was.
"Phyllida," she whispered, tears now making it down her cheeks. "Phyllida E. Dewhurst."
They both seemed startled at her name. Then Gaius smiled as grandfatherly as he could. "Hello, Phyllida E. Dewhorse. I am Gaius and this is Merlin. We have been healing you."
"Dewhurst," she amended him and then added, "just call me Phyllida."
She sniffed and sat up, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand and then freezing. Her skin felt completely normal. Not only had the wicked sunburn disappeared – so had the blisters she had felt forming under the intense heat of the pyre. Had that been something she had imagined? Or had they healed? "How long have I been out?"
"Several hours," Merlin said. "That's impossible," she insisted, "my skin cannot have healed in such a short time."
"Salt water," Gaius said, hopping that she would accept this simple explanation. She didn't.
"Bullshit!" she said distinctly, "salt water or not, it takes blisters about ten days to truly disappear, depending on the severity of the case. And mine were severe!"
"Not when you use the solution we applied to you," Merlin smiled at her, trying to ease her mind. She scowled him. "Don't patronise me – tell me what's happened."
Merlin and Gaius exchanged a glance and Gaius turned to leave the room. The time to ask her about her enigmatic outcry and to explain who he was had come.
x
"Phyllida," Merlin began, "you were taken to the pyre because Camelot is ruled by a king who is very much afraid of sorcery." He saw her close her eyes in pain at the recollection. "I-am-not-a-witch," she said, accentuating each word.
"But somehow they thought you were and they acted on it. Sorcerers must be careful in this country and stay hidden."
"I am not..."
Merlin stopped her by pressing two fingers to her lips. "I understand," he said, smirking, "but, you see – I am."
Merlin didn't know how she would react, but he hadn't expected this:
She smirked. "Oh, please," she said, her tone of voice conveying the deepest disbelief.
He smiled widely at her. "No, but I am. That's how you healed so quickly. We applied magic."
Phyllida was still smirking, obviously not believing a word he was saying. Merlin sighed inwardly. Here was another one who wouldn't believe that a mere serving boy could, indeed, be harbouring such powers. But the, what about the message she announced? Merlin drew out his right hand, extending it. He hardly moved his lips, but stared intently on the palm of his hand and …
… a flame suddenly flashed and flickered between his fingers.
Phyllida jerked back in shock and pressed herself against the wall, staring at the flame in pure terror. Surprised at first, Merlin swore when he realised the reason for her violent reaction. How could he forget that?
"I'm sorry – sorry. I forgot about your recent trial." He quickly closed his hand and quelled the flame, yet still it took the girl several minutes to calm down and relax her body. She was panting. Instead, Merlin whispered into both his hands and when he reached them out, there was a flower in them. Then before her very eyes, the flower started floating through the air, dangling in front of her. Tentatively she stuck out her hand, waving it both over, under and beside the flower. Once she had satisfied herself that the flower was, indeed, floating freely without the use of string or its like, she let out a hiss of abated breath and turned to look at Merlin.
"Oh, my god," she whispered.
"But you must have known this," the young warlock said softly, "you called my sorcerer name from the pyre."
"You sorcerer name?" she said, her voice full of questions. "Yes," he said, "my birth name is Merlin, but I am known as Emrys within sorcery circles."
"The Immortal One," she murmured.
"I'm sorry?"
Phyllida looked at him. He didn't know? Of course, not. The name derived from Greek – why would he know Greek? He sat there on the edge of the cot, looking so incredibly young and vulnerable. Yet this was the boy whom she had seen in the crystal cave wither and die, the boy who had somehow saved her from the pyre and the boy who had just performed breath taking REAL magic right in front of her eyes. Magic that could not be denied. Slowly, as this was making less and less – or perhaps more and more – sense to Phyllida, from the event in the cave to the horror in the square, the various enigmatic elements of it all began to come together in a workable explanation. Of where she was, of where she had been, of WHEN she was … And this boy might just believe her theory.
As if reading her mind, Merlin took her hand and urgently asked her: "Who are you, Phyllida, and how did you get here? And what is the message you were talking about?"
She accepted and clasped his hands and sighed deeply. Then she asked him not to interrupt her while she was talking and proceeded to tell him every detail from the cave.
Merlin blinked placidly while this strange girl was narrating the events taking place in the crystal cave. He didn't understand half of it, but essentially it would seem that a Merlin double had been caught in a crystal somehow and just broke free recently, asking this girl to look him up; yet none of it really made sense. Particularly not the ending in which the surroundings had changed entirely. However, Phyllida's eyes looked more devoid of puzzlement than he had seen ever since the first time he saw her in the street, which meant that she obviously understood some of it.
The girl had sipped another cup of water and ended her story by saying: "Listen to me. I think I have figured out what has happened here. To my scientific mind it is outlandish and completely wrong and improbable. Yet when all other explanations have been considered and dismissed, what is left, however improbable, must be the truth." She put down the cup and leaned forward.
"This is what I believe happened: At some point in your future, you find this crystal cave and are somehow caught in the crystal. Apparently you stay there for quite some time, because when I dropped by, it had been over a thousand years since you were encapsulated there (Merlin started at this). Somehow, with your mind only, you had managed to gather the correct components for a magical compound that could free you from the crystal; however, free of the preserving effect of the crystal, you quickly withered and caught up with all the years you had been entrapped and you knew you were going to die shortly. You had strength in you for one last powerful spell and thus sent me back to your past with a warning that would keep you from the crystal cave."
She stopped, drank some more water and looked at her captive audience. Merlin was looking down in front of him, clearly contemplating her words carefully. When he finally spoke, his speech was slow. "I believe you are right in by far the most of your theory – except the one about the message."
"Yeah? How?"
He looked up and his dark blue eyes met her auburn ones. "The message was: tell Arthur everything. I don't believe that meant that I should stay away from the crystal cave, which I already have visited, by the way. I believe it meant something different entirely."
"What, then?"
"That I should do the one thing that I cannot."
x
Phyllida had no idea how hungry she had been. Insisting that it was time that she got out of bed and surprised when her legs buckled under her and she fell to the floor unceremoniously like a rag doll, she eventually managed to make it to the dinner table and sit down with her young host for soup and bread. She longed for a bath, still smelling slightly and sickeningly like roasted chicken, but her aggressively hungry belly won the immediate battle. The bath would have to come later.
Merlin watched her eat with a smile on his face as she wolfed down the soup like a blacksmith after a long, arduous day. Gaius had gone to sleep, snoring pleasantly in the corner, and the two of them were sitting in semi darkness, talking with hushed voices.
"You know, even if you have been to the cave already, clearly you return to it at some point," Phyllida pointed out between slurps.
"I don't think so," Merlin said firmly.
"Why not?"
"Because … when I was there, I saw the future in the crystals. They led me to act prematurely and it ended in calamity. I will never go back, it can only lead to disaster."
"Obviously," the girl said dryly, "nevertheless – my experience with you in the cave indicates that you do – for whatever reason. And you have to address that fact somehow and take your precautions."
Merlin didn't answer, silently thinking that she was wrong. Instead he asked her:
"Why did the king's men think you were a sorceress?"
"I carried an iPa ... item from the future. It is a mechanical thing, but rather advanced for your time and period. It played a tune and everyone thought it was magic – I guarantee you, though, it was not."
"I believe you. Why did you take that chance?"
Phyllida took time to swallow a particularly big bite of bread. "I had no idea where I was; in my mind, this was still year 2012 and all the people were nutters from a medieval fair."
"Medieval fair?"
"Don't ask."
"Right. Tell me, though, how come you can understand us and speak our language, even with that interesting accent of yours."
"I'm an archaeologist. That word doesn't exist yet, but it means somebody interested in old times. I have learned the languages of old times to be able to read the contemporary chronicles."
Merlin nodded. That explained her odd accent. She would have no way of knowing the correct pronunciation.
"I am terribly sorry that your first run-in with our time should be so traumatic," he said gently. She swallowed the soup she had in her mouth and nodded. "I now know how all the witches of the past – my past – must have felt when tried and burned. It is truly a horrible way to go." The young girl trembled and Merlin reached out to tug the blanket she was wearing more tightly round her.
"What is this one thing you cannot do?" she asked, trying to sound normal.
Merlin gave her a sad little smile.
"As you have seen, sorcery is somewhat frowned upon here. So I have to stay in the shadow. But I would still like to protect my prince. I firmly believe that he can bring about Albion and unite this island. So I stay, doing the best I can to keep him from harm, using a little magic now and then to the extent that is necessary. But I have to be careful – so careful. If I am caught, I will end on the pyre just like you."
"But if you can get me out, I bet you can get yourself out too."
The young sorcerer nodded, "Been there, done that already – in another body," he added, explaining, as he saw the mute question in her eyes, "however, if that happens, I will have to stay away from Prince Arthur. And then, who will protect him?"
Phyllida nodded, recognising the problem. "And he is like his paranoid father, then? Likely to throw you in the flames himself if you tell him the truth?"
Merlin looked down, suddenly finding his feet infinitely fascinating. "I'm not sure," he finally opinioned, "I supposed it can go both ways."
The now naturally red-headed girl watched the young man closely. There was something else going on. Merlin didn't just fear the pyre or the banishment.
x
It wasn't until the next morning that Phyllida actually noticed that something had happened to her hair. Standing in front of a mirror and about to comb what she still believed to be black hair, she started at the sight that peered back at her. Her hair was back to the carrot fox-red colour it had been born with and which, in her opinion, made her look like a washed out cleaning rag. She gasped audibly and Merlin turned at the sound.
"Ah! Yes, I removed the paint you had applied to your hair."
She turned to look at him with inquisitive eyes. "Why? … And …. how?"
The young sorcerer shrugged. "The purple-black colour was rather prominent. Like this and with your now healed and fair skin, no one will recognise you. And I did it with magic, of course."
Phyllida nodded. It made sense. She would just have to put up with this colour until she could make it back to her own century …. which reminded her:
"Merlin, I'm almost afraid to ask," she began with a little trepidation.
The young boy lit up in a genuine smile that split his face from ear to ear.
"Don't be. You can ask me anything."
"Now that you have got the message … can you bring me back to my own time?"
Merlin bit his lip. "I have absolutely no idea," he admitted. He winced when he saw the girl's shoulders fall. Not the answer she had hoped for, obviously.
Later that morning, Merlin had chores to do, but before Gaius left for his rounds, Phyllida recounted everything she and Merlin had discussed the previous night – including the time issue. The old physician sat pondering for a while, eyeing the young archaeologist with something resembling sympathy and then rose to fetch a book from his vast collection.
"I might have read something to that end," he mumbled, taking out a particularly large copy of Magica diversa ex ed in tempus. Phyllida's eyes widened. Archaeologists had been looking for this fabled book for ages, and here it was – right under her nose. It made her wonder what else Gaius had on his shelves.
The book landed on the table, dust and crumbs fleeing for their life and both Gaius and Phyllida bent over it hungrily. The old mentor eyed the young woman out of the corner of his eye. Extraordinary! Phyllida appeared to be as fascinated with science and books as he did.
"I think I can leave this with you as I take care of my rounds," Gaius said, "look for anything temporal, mark the pages and we will go through it when I come back. Stick to Merlin's room – and open for no one!"
"You don't have to tell me that," Phyllida said, cocking an eyebrow.
"When you feel better, we will concoct an alias for you – perhaps you could be Merlin's cousin or something. And we will find some new clothes for you. With that hair colour, your healed hue and a dress, no one will ever recognise the wretched witch that was burned on the pyre."
Phyllida nodded, tensing as usual when the unpleasant witch-experience came up.
x
Merlin was deeply embedded in thought as he walked down the cold stone hallways. Though Spring had come early, the mornings were still chilly to the bone and the light came late. The stones that the castle were made of tended to hold on the night's coldness longer than the simple hut made of wood, which made it somewhat of a trial to rise early and wager into the long corridors.
In addition, this morning was still and deserted and nothing and no one peered round the corners to disturb the young manservant's contemplation. Until he reached the north north-east junction when he saw the flash of a purple dress disappear into a niche and heard the silent sound of a heavy oak door opening and closing. Morgana! He was certain of it. Looking down on the tiled floor, he discovered traces of soiled footprints – of a very small foot. He frowned; obviously the lady had been out on a nightly excursion again. On more than one occasion he had seen her go out, but ever since the serket experience, he had been very careful not to let himself be caught unaware again. Merlin rubbed his neck where the serket had stung him. It still pained him at night, sometimes. Despite his magic, he really hadn't been able to do much. If ever he had to follow her through the night again, it would not be alone. He had learned that much.
Tiptoeing to the best of his ability, he reached her door and put an ear to the heavy oak in the hope of catching something of importance. The oak felt warmer than the stone frame he was leaning against, it should carry the sound more clearly than a wall. Yet the only thing he could make out was muted sounds that indicated that she was undressing.
His prominent ears red as tomatoes, Merlin quickly withdrew and proceeded on his walk to the prince's chambers. Finding out what Morgana was up to would have to wait.
xxx
So will Merlin stalk Morgana and end up in the crystal cave again? Will he be alone?
Will Phyllida ever come home to her own time?
You might find out in the next chapter. ;)