Merlin's head spun around. His thoughts were confused and he would have given anything for some hours of sleep, if necessary to fool himself he'd only been dreaming, but then he would forget what he had to do. He had only one objective, and that was finding Morgana. He tried not to think of her reaction and a good way to convince her that he didn't want to harm her, but after some minutes of puzzling his head off, he decided it only caused him an unhealthy dose of stress. He would cudgel his brains about it later.
He ran, like he had never been running before. It felt good to rush like that, when it seemed as if his lungs were falling out of his body. Only then, he was able to control his enormous feeling of guilt, as he had to concentrate at his trembling legs, that were eager to make him collapse.
While running, he thought of Morgana, he saw her witty grin again, and he couldn't believe he'd actually been so stupid. He should have known better than choosing for a Dragon instead of his own, dearest friend. He only hoped it wasn't too late (in fact, it had already been too late for three years, but Merlin repressed those thoughts out of necessity).
Eventually, after hours of running, he fell on the ground, exhausted. The sun was rising in the east, but Merlin didn't pay attention to that. Desirous, he reached in his backpack, took his canteen and emptied it at a draught.
He strongly wished Gaius was still with him. Then he would return to Camelot, he would tell him everything, and together, they would search for a solution. Unintentionally, he remembered Gaius, just as the Dragon, impressed Morgana should know about her Magic on Merlin. But he could impossibly be angry at his old mentor. He could only feel sad and lonely because he -Gaius- was no more. Maybe Gaius had counselled the Dragon as well? At least he had known the creature existed.
However, Merlin couldn't afford to think badly about Gaius, and even his rage towards Morgana was now restrained. She had done some terrible things, but he simply didn't feel angry at her any more. Not only because he was forced to, but also because he now realised how afraid and left alone she must have felt. Not that he found it difficult to comprehend, as he knew as no-one else how frightening Magic could be if you didn't know what it exactly was and how to control it. He had never really understood why Morgana started to cooperate with Morgause, but suddenly, even that seemed logical. There had been nobody whom Morgana could have talked to. She had had her friends, but she had to live in the illusion they would all drop her once they knew what she really was. And then Morgause, her sister, the only family she had left, came and told her she shouldn't be afraid and together, they would create a world with Magic and without Uther, so why would she not have chosen for Morgause? Now Merlin was thinking about it, he expected he -if he wasn't aware of his destiny and he had no-one he could trust, just like her- would have done exactly the same.
He was kneeling again in the throne room, exhausted and overwhelmed by sadness. He held Morgana in his arms. He wanted to sooth her, tell her he didn't want to do it, and even that everything would be all right. But not a single word had escaped his lips. She wanted to hurt him, she wanted to hit him, she wanted to get up and curse him. But instead, she found herself in his arms, gasping for breath and not letting go of his hands, as if they were the only things that could still save her; Merlin had never felt as bad as then. Poisoning Morgana was, without a doubt, the hardest thing he'd ever done.
The fact he had that flashback again, was the sign he had to get up and to go on, to the south.
In the past, Gaius often told him about Cornwall, so Merlin knew it was located in the south, and it was surrounded by Magic. King Uther had always been afraid of the city, so it wasn't appropriate to talk about it in Camelot. It was no wonder the High Priestesses were situated there.
Merlin didn't have the energy to run any more, so he walked on, grateful for the bit of sunlight, beaming on his sweaty face, and wondered if Morgana had become a High Priestess as well. There was a great chance, Merlin feared. But still, he couldn't help finding the idea of Morgana being a High Priestess a bit weird. Although she had always been adventurous, even a daredevil, and she'd always loved the rural life, she was also proud and used to comfort. Merlin found it hard to imagine Morgana living in a cave in the forest, without complaining that her hair became a mess, her clothes were dirty and she had woken up with aching muscles.
As he, tomorrow, he expected. Nonetheless, he marched on, keeping up a steady pace.
When a faint sun reached her highest point and shone on the green fields, Merlin stopped for a brief moment and ate a piece of his bread, and drank from his canteen, which he had refilled with a simple spell.
If it was because of the feeling of hunger, that had now disappeared, or because the sun gave him some warmth on this cold autumn day, he didn't know, but his thoughts had become more light-hearted and almost enthusiastic. After all, a great destiny awaited him and his friends (or enemies). They would go into history as the ones who created a kingdom named Albion, a utopia, a future, a reality, that was about to come true. He had almost forgotten about it. But still, he remained a creature of Light. Morgana was a creature of Darkness, but she had a good heart. Merlin had to admit, destiny was ironical. But he was certain. With a smile on his face, he could only conclude Morgana had a good heart. Ashamed of himself, he wondered why he'd ever thought otherwise. Deep inside, he had always known she had a good heart.
He rose up and continued his journey to the south. He began to wonder what the High Priestesses would be like. He couldn't imagine they would treat him nicely, so he only pondered on their way of living. Would he find them in a forest, even if the weather was this tricky? How would they dress up? What would they do? Did they celebrate Samhain? En Joel? And Beltain? Though those feasts hadn't been held in Camelot for a very long time (Uther had forbidden them, because they were too Magical, and Arthur didn't want to re-establish them, because most of the people in Camelot didn't even remember what they were about), Merlin still remembered how people in Ealdor, traditionally, always married on Beltain, and always celebrated Midsummer. You could call it popular belief, but Merlin was sure the gods, who had also burdened him with such a great destiny, found it important to be honoured by the people.
Gaius had once told him how he, himself, had taken Morgause, who had only been a small child back then, to the High Priestesses. Merlin had never asked for more details, and now he regretted he hadn't. Not because he cared that much about Morgause's past, though he supposed it would most likely provide him a clearer view in the mind of the most powerful and cunning sorceress he'd ever met – Nimueh included (he was also afraid he would consider Morgause as being too humane, and feel sorry for her, and that just didn't seem right. He could believe Morgana had a good heart, but only because he knew she wasn't like her half-sister). No, Merlin was curious about the way the High Priestesses lived, because he wanted to know how others of his kind filled their days. He had once met the Druids, though it had only been for a very brief moment, but he found it very interesting to know how they used their Magic. The High Priestesses, however, were known to be much more drastic in their way of thinking and acting. It wasn't hard to imagine Morgause, and also Morgana, who -as Gaius had said before- dealt in absolutes, in their world.
Before Merlin realised, the sun was already drowning in the sea, and he walked in twilight. Besides that, he felt how the energy around him had changed. The Magic calmed him, in a strange way, but also made him shiver. He experienced the bizarre, though not unfamiliar, feeling of Magic, that was aching in his veins, as if he had walked hours in the burning sun on a hot summer's day. He realised his goal wasn't far away any more. All of a sudden, he wished he had been considering how he would tell Morgana about their common destiny instead of wondering how High Priestesses lived. But it was no use crying over spilt milk, so Merlin walked on, heading for the houses and activity in the distance. Though it was already dark and cold, and there were no feasts in this time of the year, he could hear people talking and laughing in the city he was about to enter. He wasn't sure if it was Cornwall, though a voice in his head whispered it wasn't. This was smaller, friendlier and less Magical.
Merlin entered the town. On the streets, many people were still chatting and working, and Merlin realised why there still was so much rumour. Apparently, it had been a market day, and many vendors were still storing their wares. Immediately, he understood it hadn't been a market as he knew it in Camelot, where food and clothes were sold. A bearded man carefully put draughts in a box, a jester bewitched a bench, that stood against a housefront, and it started dancing, and children laughed and clapped after his little trick. And a lady stored leeches and death toads, she looked at her unsold wares, her eyes flashed gold and the bowls, filled with vermin, floated on her barrow.
"Love draughts, lad?" Merlin was startled after hearing the scraping voice, next to his ear. An old woman, dressed in rags and with a lump on her back, held a small, purple bottle in front of him. "Mix it with the tea of the girl you desire, and she will become yours."
"No, thanks", Merlin said hastily, and he hurried away from the centre of the town. The side streets he found himself in now, were dark and abandoned. A circle of light attracted his attention. He heard songs and laughter, coming out of an old pub.
Though he was surrounded by Magicians, and it would've been logical if he felt at home with them, Merlin found it hard to say he felt comfortable, but nonetheless, he entered the tavern.
The first thing he noticed, was that there were only jabbering men and sensual women in the inn, and they all appeared to be as tight as a drum. Merlin decided he should tell Gwaine about this place when he got back home, but now he sat down, silent and awkward, at an empty table, standing in the corner. His entrance must have been really inconspicuous, because after fifteen minutes, still no-one had come to ask for his order. But he hadn't entered the inn to get drunk, but to gain information, so he stood up and went to the bar.
"Excuse me", he spoke. The bartender, a fat man with a reddish, bristly moustache and a red face, turned around. "I am looking for someone, and I was wondering if she might be in the neighbourhood?"
"What would she do in Tintagel if she is, just like you, non-Magical?" the bartender said, haughty. Merlin had no idea why he was talking to him in this way, but he supposed he would lose many customers if he would talk like that to everyone.
"I am Magical, and she is as well", Merlin said. In Camelot, he wouldn't even dare to think those words, but here, he had nothing to fear.
"I've never seen you before", the bartender noticed, rigidly.
"No, but maybe you've already seen her?" Merlin said, though he knew for certain you would never find Morgana in a pub, and most certainly not among these folks.
At that moment, the door opened. Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't have been such a great news, but the man who entered the tavern made so many fanciful gestures and yelled that loud: "Angus, give every man something to drink! I'll pay!" that everyone was now looking at the lad, and some started to applaud.
"And how are you planning to pay, Cormac?"
"With this", the man, who's name was Cormac, spoke. Smirking, he took a full purse out of his pocket.
That was prove enough for Angus, the bartender, and before Merlin realised, he was pushed aside by hundreds of thirsty souls.
"Since when do people earn so much money by selling horses?" a man yearned at Cormac, who, apparently, was a horse-dealer.
"Since I sold the black horse. It's a beauty, I'm telling you", Cormac sighed, happily.
"Who on earth possesses enough money to buy such an animal?" the other man asked, surprised.
"The oldest of the two sisters, the one with the fair hair, who live at the seaside. You know, the High Priestesses", Cormac answered. Merlin felt as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. He went closer and pricked up his ears.
"I wonder where they get the money from", the other man said. He took his mug and emptied it at a draught, followed by sweeping away the foam on his mouth.
"Some say they descend from noblemen", Cormac answered, simply. A servant came with a tray, on which seven ails were placed, and Cormac took one with style, proving he had done that many times before. After he drank health to himself, he took a draught. Merlin, however, wasn't able to keep his mouth shut any more, and he walked towards the two men.
"Excuse me, but could you tell me a bit more about those two sisters you were talking about?" he asked politely, but urgent.
"Ha, I suppose you want to now if they're still available, isn't it? They are handsome, I must say. But, unfortunately, devoted to the gods, and not to us, mortal men." Cormac tapped Merlin so hard on his shoulder, he almost threw the boy out off his balance.
"What are their names?" Merlin asked however, ignoring Cormac's previous answer.
"Uhm... I don't even know... Kevin," he addressed the other man, "what are the two sister's names?"
"The youngest is called Morgan Le Fay, but I don't know if that's her real name," Kevin spoke, "the Druids call her like that."
"Morgan Le Fay", Cormac repeated for Merlin, shrugging.
"Morgan... Morgana? Are you sure her name isn't Morgana?" Merlin asked. He felt his heart in his mouth. His hands were clammy as he awaited the answer.
"Morgan! Morgana! That's all the same!" Cormac boomed. "Handsome girl, she is. Very handsome. And still very young, you know. She is barely past childhood," Cormac rattled, "she has come to me, some days ago, to hire two horses."
"What does she look like?" Merlin asked. He wanted to be certain, before he was going to do something utterly stupid (though he had the feeling he was already doing something utterly stupid).
"Like I said, handsome." That left Merlin no wiser than before.
"Does she have black hair?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah. Raven-black", Cormac nodded.
"And piercing, green eyes", Kevin added.
"She doesn't look like her sister, who has blond hair and brown eyes", Cormac spoke again.
"Where can I find them?" Merlin asked, nervously. There was no doubt of it anymore. Morgan Le Fay was the same person as Morgana Pendragon, he was sure of it.
"In a cottage on the dunes," Kevin said, "they live quite out of the way."
"Thanks!" Merlin said. He ran out of the inn, happy he could inhale the fresh air again, and only half realising he was about to face his arch-enemy.