A/N: Hi folks, if there are any folks who're still interested in a story that hasn't been updated in many months. As always I'm virtually crushed by my guilty conscience but – my work, my private schedule – in short my life had another tendency to intervene with my writing fanfiction and as much as I try to better myself on that score, I always fail.
But, nevertheless here it is for those who want to read it anyway: The next chapter of The Llanfair Heritage. It's uncommonly short for a chapter of mine, but I felt the cut in this moment of the story was necessary. It may come as a little solace that the next chapter, albeit also a rather short one, will be up tomorrow or perhaps even today.
A short reminder as to where the last chapter ended: Arthur, Guinivere and Leon were taken to Cendred by Gyrrin, Morgyan and Antek of Llanfair. Arthur thinks Merlin is dead and he told Leon so. Gyrrin left a small occupation force in Markentower, who found Merlin unconscious on the cellar stairs where he had had his last encounter with Antek, without Arthur noticing it. Gyrrin's men do not know who or what Merlin is. Marwon and Gaius are hell-bent on rescuing Merlin, but unfortunately Marwon's efforts to bring Gaius back from a magical stupor induced by the Dark Arts of the Rashnijaan have turned the old healer into a dog, mentally and physically. Marwon succeeds in turning Gaius back into a human, but, alas, its only physically. This new chapter starts with Merlin's perspective of the circumstances he awakes to after he had met with Antek on the stairs...
Please, forgive me the endless delay and give me some reviews! PLEEEAAASSSEEE!
27 All's bad that ends bad
Merlin had the peculiar feeling that he was a horse which had, quite involuntarily, overtaken itself and consequently finished its last jump on the wrong foot. Again and again he tried to get up and walk but he stumbled and staggered pitiably. Finally he found some hold for his hands to keep him upright but moving further was out of the question.
Was he on a ship? This had to be a ship, from the way the ground kept rolling under his feet. How and when and why had he boarded a ship?
His head ached and he felt like vomiting. Voices. Voices in his head, some loud, some whispering, all vicious, malicious, ill-tempered. If only the ground would stop moving. Merlin closed his eyes against the blinding, hurting lights that also moved in wild circles.
Big mistake. From the darkness creatures emerged, misbegotten, disfigured, howling madly, clawing at him, hurting him further. The voices screamed at him, in a language he didn't understand. And yet he knew what they were saying. What they wanted. His blood, his life, his soul. His magic. They longed for it, drivelling like wild dogs for a piece of raw, bloody meat.
Out. He had to get out of here. Where was everybody? He needed help. Something vital was missing, something he needed to survive, something that belonged at his side. Someone who belonged at his side. "Arthur? Where are you? Arthur!" Merlin thought he yelled the name but his throat was parched, he hardly made any sounds at all.
He thrashed about blindly, hoping to get a hold on someone. Someone who should be with him. He couldn't leave him out of his sight, Arthur did not know, could not prevent, couldn't protect, could not be left to face the danger alone.
It was confusing. Voices inside his head, voices outside of it. Fighting, struggling voices and they all hurt so much. He felt so fragile, helpless and alone.
He began to crawl, slowly, oh so slowly. He'd never make it, he'd not get away from their claws, not at this rate, never. The creatures pulled at his flesh; he felt like a nut, any second now the outer shell would be pried open and the soft, vulnerable core that was his magic would be pulled into the open, to be taken from him, to be devoured by these demons...
Demons! The word rang a bell with him. Demons, he and Arthur had gone out to fight demons, demons in a book or had it been demons from a book?
One of the creatures inside his head laughed briefly, darkly, a hollow, mirthless, bitter sound. This creature, the only one among the crawling, howling, twirling mass, had a face, a face the wizard knew... a face gruesomely familiar and yet he couldn't put a name to it... The ugly, distorted and yet laughing face moved away from the others now, fast, faster, walking on a bridge of light and at the other end was... Merlin couldn't make it out. The light was too bright. But he knew that he had to protect whatever it was at the other end from this laughing, mocking creature, at any cost.
The warlock made a last effort to get on his feet and follow the creature but two other demons threw themselves into his way. Their heads, if it were heads, morphed and melted, and now he recognized them beyond all doubt. Twister and Alined. Their hands clung to him, their arms embraced him, almost strangled him. "Don't leave us, don't leave us here..."
Disgusted, abhorred Merlin tried to shake off their hands, to push them away but they hung on for dear life.
The voices from outside became louder. Someone called his name. Arthur! It had to be him!
"I'm coming" Merlin yelled. "Wait for me. Don't go!" If only he could turn, he knew there had to be a door, a way out of here, right behind him, if only he could turn away from these... monsters. But they kept him where he was; more and more of them came, more and more of them had human faces, screaming for help, for salvation, young men, old men, once proud and regal features destroyed by all vices of mankind.
And now Merlin knew where he was. A world was locked inside the Rashnijaan, a hell for anyone who'd used the Book of Demons and finally paid the price for it. Eternal life meant eternal torment in the demons' bondage; never to die, never to sleep, never to be free or quiet or at peace again. The Book promised power beyond belief and gave it, only to withdraw it all when the final day came, never to give it back. Behind the hollow promise loomed solid and unending betrayal. The glittering path to riches and might led to damnation in the end.
The ancient magicians who conjured up the Rashnijaan had created the ultimate temptation, the final entrapment that carried the punishment for those who succumbed to it right in itself. Punishment for everyone, but for the one creature who had by now reached the end of the bridge and vanished from the Rashnijaan's grounds, just like that, changing from one dimension into another with a single step.
A terrible, anguished scream from the outside world, from the bridge's end, resounded through the demons' world and then a door closed behind the demonic refugee, the light was gone and Merlin knew that he had failed in his last, in his most important mission.
It was all over now. The monster was gone and Emrys had lost the final battle. He had failed. His friends, his destiny, and himself.
It was all over now. No use struggling. The monster would take what must not be taken and Merlin would not be there to prevent it.
The warlock closed his eyes.
He had failed. He had left them all down. He had no right to live.
He surrendered to the claws that pulled him down.
He curled up into a ball and felt his magic pour out of him, bit by bit. It fell like tiny drops of cool, clear water into the red hot darkness all around him and the creatures licked it up, thirstily, pushing each other away in their greed.
But there were too many of them. The magic, even Merlin/Emry's singular magic, would not be enough to set just one of them free. Nor would the warlock find a place in their ranks when they were through with him.
Like anything else these creatures had devoured in their earthly lives, when they had been men, may it be love, beauty, fortune, power or human beings, the warlock's precious magic, his real life-force, would be wasted and spoilt, for a moment's pleasure, without consequence, without meaning, for nothing and nothing would remain of him.
A growl was among the last things Merlin heard before blackness claimed him. A growl like that of gigantic hound, right by his ear. Something panted at his side, a claw pawed the ground angrily. Merlin did not care. He was beyond caring. He had cared for so many things, for so many people once, but in the end he had failed them all. The only thing left to do was to end it, here and now. He welcomed the warm, comforting cloud that carried him away.
What he could not see was the creatures withdrawing, fearful, wary. Someone else had entered the demons' realm and unlike Merlin, he had come on purpose.
Four huge paws, four long, muscular legs stood over the warlock, white fangs were bared and still the low growl filled the air. The enormous wolf, grey furred, with a white haired snout, laid his head back and howled. A kind of magic unheard of in the demons' world seeped out of him, built an aura around him and the young warlock.
The creatures pulled back, whimpering with unfamiliar pain and terror.
Never before had a real magician, a carrier of natural magic, made it into their dimension with his powers intact and ready for use. They were vampires of magic, but their might was stealth and deception. They could not fight what was in its prime; like spiders they had to paralyse their prey before they could feast on it.
Step by step the wolf retreated, the warlock firmly in his fangs.
From a far distance, obscured in the shadows, one of the creatures stared at the wolf, not greedily like the others, but wishfully, and sad. Unlike the others this creature had no real substance to it, more like a shadow, a ghost of a being. This way an image may become a spectre caught behind a mirror's glass as soon as the person who looked into it laughs and turns away and forgets about the cold shiver that ran down their spine.
The wolf, still pulling the warlock out of danger, back into the world of the living, returned the spectre's intend gaze uncomfortably. Remembering something he would have wished to forget, never to be reminded of. An old shame, an old disgrace. Whatever it was, it did not prevent him from fulfilling his task.
A door opened behind the wolf and, slowly going backwards, animal and warlock reached their own bridge of light, crossed it, passed the door and were gone.
The light had left.
The creatures dispersed. Trapped, for another eternity. Alined and Twister among them, only now grasping what had happened to them. What would happen to them, from now on, until all time would end and even after that.
The sad spectre in the shadows lingered a while longer. It whispered something, but its voice was like a soft breeze and not to be understood. Finally it turned away from where the door had been and in the split second before it merged into the darkness, it showed the features of a young man whose name had once been Arenboarth.