Contrary to popular belief, the entirety of life does not flash before one's eyes at the point of death. Rather, it sort of floated by, the Pilgrim thought. Or so her would have thought were his thoughts not an incomprehensible jumble of images, melodies and windswept voices whispering to one another across the vast plane of emptiness
This was the cracked realm between the worlds. The infinite void where it was said dwelt god himself.
The Pilgrim lay on death's doorstep.
While his mortal body lay motionless atop Kilgharrah's flying form, his soul drifted backward, forward, in between. Chains of time slithered like snakes, bound in place. Time had no hold in this place. For here time did not truly exist. All was one here. Threaded fates of old friends long past shimmered in an ethereal misty light, greeting him. However, off in the distance two thread shone brightest. One brilliant gold, the other a mystical silver.
Two sides of the same coin.
One King. One Prophet.
Neither could exist without the other, for alone they would surely fail, and every thread would be broken, stained black by the poisonous hatred that threatened to consume all things.
"Emrys..." the name echoed through the mist. It was a name so very familiar to him, yet now it was no longer his own. Merlin had risen to his destiny, and taken on the mantle of the bearer of foreknowledge. The one person who not only saw the future, but knew it to be true.
Remnants of the knowing remained, leaving him hopeful yet weary. He still knew what was to come. The power of the crystal cave, the heart of magic itself, still surged within his soul. Demons would be unleashed. Armies would clash together, reducing Albion's society to splinters. And Arthur would be at the heart of all it all to lead them. The Once and Future King would unite the lands with Excalibur raised to the heavens. He would fight for love and glory.
Memories passed him by like faded paint on a canvas. Every last instant of his thousand year lifespan came back in a rush of light and color. His first spell. His first time saving Arthur's life. A lover's gentle kiss. A basinet floating on a lake. The loving touch of his daughter, and the smile she wore on her wedding day. The Wicked Day of destiny. The death of his closest friend, and his departure from Camelot to parts unknown.
He wondered the farthest reaches of the planet. He climbed the highest mountains and delved into the deepest forests. The universities of Italy provided a huge archive of arcane knowledge. The mythic beasts of Greece were a marvel to study. He froze to form an icy bridge, and crossed to lands in the far west. The magic of the red man came easily to him. Their power was drawn from nature itself, the world around them granted abilities beyond those of mortal men. As always he was a willing student, determined to learn the ways of the world. How else could he guide those chosen to determine it's fate?
New heroes popped up all over the earth. Figures destined for greatness beyond imagining. It was these men and women who shaped the history of the world, and for each of them, the Pilgrim was there, watching from the shadows, silently guiding them on their way. Very rarely did he intervene directly. The best of teachers, he found, let their students discover some lessons on their own, and stood on the sidelines to secretly cheer them on.
Wars divided and created nations. Empires rose and fell. Yet the legend of King Arthur and Merlin the great enchanter endured, surviving on the winds breath.
Of course, many of the facts were distorted by the passing of the ages. Lancelot and Guinevere had been remembered as illicit lovers, whose affair and betrayal had led to Arthur's doom. Morgause and Morgana were often mistaken for one another, their acts and deeds melding together so that it was difficult to tell who did what, and whether or not they were separate women at all. Nimueh and Freya melded together as well. Both names were given for the lady of the lake in historical texts. Gaius was forgotten completely, it was never thought that Merlin, mentor to the king, would have a wise counselor of his own. Merlin was often misspelled as Merlyn, and portrayed as an old man aging backwards in time, caught between infinite wisdom and infuriating senility.
But nevertheless, the legends remained. The bits of legend that truly mattered remained intact. King Arthur. Lancelot the Brave, greatest of knights. Merlin the WiseGeneration after generation heard tales of the great battles waged by Albion's one true king, of the quest for the holy grail, of the justice that reigned supreme during Camelot's golden age. The Pilgrim chuckled at the inconsistincies. Historians never did get it quite right.
Through all of his years of life he waited for the right moment. For the knowing to tell him when it time for him to return to Camelot. To brave the time stream that bound moments together.
Now time was coming round full circle again, for him at least.
He felt the dragon egg hatch. Felt the new soul blossom into life. A scaly thread appeared before him.
"You felt that I trust, old friend," Kilgharrah's voice rang through his subconscious. His ears were still working it seemed. He was still alive, at least until the time for came for his last enchantment.
"I did," he croaked with withered lips. The world of the living slowly came back into focus. Kilgharrah's spiny back thumped rhythmically beneath him. "She will be a mighty dragoness my friend. I feel...the time has come. Please, fly towards Badon hill. My death must come soon, if Arthur is to live to see the battle's end."
"This soon? Even now, after all these years, you would still die to save him?"
"Always. After all, it's my life's calling."
LINEBREAK
Roughly the size of a greyhound, the newborn dragoness was coated with a layer of sleek black scales, streamlined for flight. Bumped ridges edged the criwn of her head, giving her the appearance of a bemused reptilian princess. She yawned, stretching her legs and unfurling a pair of small leathery wings. The rope thin black tail swung pleasantly back and forth.
A rush of strange new feelings swam through the dragoness' young mind. These were senses, she knew. This was what it was like to feel the firm ground beneath your feet. Sounds rippled the air around the minuscule slits at her temples rather than echoing in her subconscious. She could hear.
Lancelot felt it as well. Strange tinglings prickled his skin. For am moments he actually thought he had claws, scales and a tail. That he was a hatchling dragon experiencing the world for the first time. The bond between an Oberan familiar and their host was a strong one indeed. Eyelids crusted with unuse peeled open.
Huge violet orbs gaped, awestruck at the sight of the physical world. The forms of the people crowding the collapsed cell were far different than she'd imagined. Verown was huge, as was his wolf companion, who apparently thought the hatchling was rather threatening, because he'd taken to growling timidly at his masters heels. Arthur was handsome and blonde, holy enchanted sword at his hip. The very definition of princely royalty. Merlin's ears were bigger than she'd expected. Nothing about him screamed 'divinely begotten prophet' but she could feel the power radiating from him like light from the sun. He was who he was.
The prisoners Gwen and Gaius, who she had never met but had heasrd mentioned on a number of occasions, were discheveledly hanging by their ankles a few inches above the ground. The elderly physician was asleep, but the girl was pretty, and looked rather nice even in her torn peasants dress.
Morgana was terrifying. A frenzied mess of a woman with black pits for eyes. Predatory. If this was not the very image of evil, then nothing was.
All of them were staring. Shocked.
"Lancelot," she chirped. "I hatched!" The words escaped her lips, unpracticed as they were with physical speech, as barely audible squeaks and squeals.
"...I can see that." Lancelot said back. Shattered remains of egg shell were strewn about his ankles. He kicked them away absently, lowering himself to kneel at the dragoness' side. "What...what should I call you?" They'd had this conversation before. Apparently, despire their awareness within their eggs, dragon mothers didn't distribute names until after the hatching.
"I...I don't know," she replied . She'd expected Kilgharrah to give her a name, as he was her only fellow dragon. But he wasn't here. And Honestly, she hadn't thought about it really. How does one choose a name for themselves that they'll be known as from cradle to grave?
"How cute," Morgana drawled from the door frame. "But I'm afraid I have to interrupt. You can talk already, dragon? Pity, I only anticipated putting up with your dying squawks instead of your begging for mercy. No matter." She slashed a hand through the air. Her eyes burned gold.
A chunk of rocky debris lifted itself from the ground and launched like a spear through the air directly at the dragons throat.
"Glathin!" Merlin shouted. With a light wurring sound a bubble of protective energy bloomed into life around the Warlock and his companions. It gave of a purplish light, giving those within it strange magenta complections. Jerking back from the shock of the hatching, the three warriors drew their weapons. Verown's wolf lowered itself to a pouncing position. It's hackles stood like daggers.
"Get out of the way, Morgana," said Merlin. "We don't want to fight you. Just let us take Gwen and Gaius and we won't have to hurt you."
"Are you completely mental?" Arthur asked him. "We discussed this didn't we? If we ran into Morgana we'd take her together."
"Only if it came to that," Merlin answered. His hands shook with the effort of maintaining the shield. "I know that you're new to the whole 'battling evil sorcerers bent on world domination' thing Arthur, but I try to keep the body count to a minimum at all costs. If Morgana will stand aside, we should let her live. We came here to save Gwen, not get revenge."
"You are mental! She's trying kill us and take over the bloody world for Gods sake! Why on earth should we let her go without a fight?"
"Oh don't worry Arthur," said Morgana, cracking her fingers menacingly. "I've no intention of you lot leaving at all. Merlin's delusional sense of morality does get rather tiresome, doesn't it? Defeating one's opponents is difficult when you refuse to dispose of them properly. Luckily for me, I have more than enough wisdom to know that ending your lives will only profit me. Goodbye then. Ignotam Shuleuse!"
A wave of concussive force exploded from her fingertips. It smashed against the shield with the impact of a meteorite. The shield shuddered, before blinking out of existence. Merlin groaned.
"Alright," he shrugged. "We fight then. But only do what you have to, Arthur." he nodded gravely.
"I intend to, Merlin. And don't tell me what to do. Magical messiah or not I'm still the prince here." The room gave a collective eye roll. "Then again, if this is what you deal with all the time, I'm not paying you nearly enough, am I?"
"Not even close."
"We get out of here alive I'll see about remedying that."
"Not to be a bother or anything," Gwen called from her place on the wall. "But could you two stop bickering like five year olds and get us down from here please?" Arthur whipped around to face her, acknowledging the maids presence fully for the first time.
"Oh, Guienivere, quite right," he said flusteredly. "One moment. I'll be right there. Sorry."
Suddenly clamorous sound erupted from the dungeon antechamber. The shouts of a dozen armed men resounded far down the corridors as they thundered down the winding staircase, their metal armor clanging with each step. The guards had heard the cell collapse and were coming to the regent queen's aid.
"Are you willing to kill innocent guards?" Morgana asked. "Because you'll have to be if you want to get at me. Otherwise my men will carve you to luncheon meat while I watch. Then again, they're not innocent at all. All who do Uther's bidding are guilty of some crime." She backed out of the room, smirking fiendishly before turning to face the oncoming guardsmen and putting on the facade of a damsel in distress.
"Help, sorcerers! They've reanimated the prince's body and brought it here to mock me, kill them!"
Swords and crossbows ready, the guards stormed into the room. Arthur exchanged brief looks with his companions. Merlin sighed, dejected.
"Knock them out then. Don't hurt them too much!" he cried just as their opponents reached them, and they were thrown into the heat of battle.
Castle guards were well trained in those days, but they were not true soldiers. This would be an easy skirmish, though it was far easier to kill an opponent outright than it was to incapacitate them with non-lethal blows, especially in such close quarters.
Arthur slid forward on his heels to meet them. Right foot forward, he thrust Excalibur's hilt sideways, bludgeoning the lead guard in the left temple, knocking him out cold instantly. Quickly he spun around ands swept his leg along the ground, tripping several guards at they approached. Merlin took to flinging hunks of rock telekinetically. He aimed for the dividing leather strips in between the armor plates. He'd put it on Arthur enough times to have every weak point memorized. Verown, with his tree trunk arms and mighty claymore, was a titan in battle. His wolf darted tween legs, slashing at shins with claws. Gnashing with teeth.
Lancelot knelt of the ground arms protectively wrapped round the dragoness, his sword raised in front of them to block any stragglers who managed to make it to them. Having been just born her scales were relatively thin. A well placed weapon could pierce them with ease.
"Sire!" a voice called over the commotion. Sir Leon stood in the door, Sir Godric at his side, the other knights just behind them. "We're here to help!"
The knights swam into the fray, flanking the guards. For nearly a minute they beat away at them with the blunt ends of their blades, until the guard regiment had been reduced to a single man with a crossbow. Like his fellows this man was beaten to submission, but not before he got off a single shot.
Merlin didn't see it in time, he had his back turned as he moved to release Gwen. Nor did he see Morgana reenter the room hold a dark colored amulet.
The crossbow bolt was perfectly align, and made it's mark at the end of the dragoness' long tail. Just an inch of scales were exposed in the curve of Lancelot's elbow.
She shrieked in agony. Blood began to trickle from ther wound. Merlin saw whaty was about to happen, but was too slow. Morgana waved her hand, calling the blood soaked bolt to her hand. Grinning, she shattered the amulet at her feet. Black mist enveloped her, and she disappeared within it's shadowy folds.
"NO!" he bellowed. But to no avail. She was already gone.