Arthur wasn't exactly sure where he was going. He didn't know how long he'd be riding. He also didn't know who he'd meet. At least I know why and that's a start, thought the new King. Or do I? What if this is a trap?
Arthur realized this could be a trick and that no one had his servant, Merlin, thus he was being lured to his death. The young man wasn't ready to call him his friend, at least not openly. He was too proud. However, on the off chance this wasn't trickery and Merlin was indeed in terrible danger, Arthur would never forgive himself for going to help the warlock.
"You can stop riding now, Arthur," said the same woman's voice.
Arthur was all too happy to oblige. He dismounted and led the horse to the water. With the water crashing around his feet, the blonde-haired man stopped and looked around. He appeared to be alone with his horse and the water. Although, Arthur couldn't see much. It was foggy and cloudy, although both were trying to break; fine rays of sun were peaking through the clouds. "Where are you," asked Arthur. His voice was curt and sharp. "Where's Merlin?"
"I didn't say your journey was done," replied the woman. There was a hint of annoyance in her voice. "You're journey isn't quite done."
"I see," muttered Arthur, even though he apparently didn't. The new King frowned and continued to glance around him. "Where do I go? What do I do?"
As if the world had heard his plea, the clouds broke and the fog began to clear as stronger rays of sun shined down on the earth and water. At the diamond-like brilliance of the water, Arthur blinked and shielded his eyes with his gloved hand. Looming in the center of the massive lake was an island with ruins sitting atop it.
"The Isle of the Blessed," whispered Arthur. He, his knights, and Merlin had gone there all too recently. It was there, Lancelot had sacrificed his life. It was there, Arthur would apparently save Merlin.
After tying his horse to a sturdy tree with grasses growing around it, Arthur made his way to the boat. Silently, he climbed into the boat and as if by magic (probably by magic) it sailed to the island. The ride was long and by the time the boat reached the shore, Arthur was cold, damp, and stiff. With a groan and might stretch, he made it up the steps of the ruins.
Within the courtyard of the area, where the sacrificial table perched, was an unnervingly beautiful woman. Her silvery, white hair shimmered ethereally. "Hello Arthur," said the woman. Her voice melodic as her pink lips turned upwards into a dainty smile that spread over her alabaster skin. In the sunlight, her ice blue eyes sparkled mischievously.
"Who are you? What are you?"
"You may call me Áine. I am a Tuatha Dé Danann, a goddess of light and life," she explained as she walked over to Arthur. Her iridescent blue and purple gossamer dress flowed around her body and hugged Aine's curves delectably.
"Where is Merlin?"
The woman's eyes dart around the room. "He is here, but I do not have him. He is being hidden by a Fomhóire, a spirit of night and… death."
Arthur paled at the news. "Why does this being want him?"
Áine crossed her arms over her chest. Her hair fluttered over her shoulders. "The spell Merlin used to save your father did work. However, the magic was intercepted so the spell used backfired. Even though your father left this world, there was a need to keep the balance."
"Why? I don't understand."
"Why?" echoed Áine. "The spell would've worked if things hadn't gone amiss. It did work, for a brief second, therefore there was a call for a sacrifice. There must be a balance and it was Merlin who would be the one to make things right, at least in the eyes of the Fomhóire it must happen."
"So he has to die?"
"No. You can save him. There is still time."
"How?"
"You'll find out."
Arthur nodded. As he did, he nodded a little bit. "Did Merlin know he'd be the sacrifice when he tried to save my father?" the new King asked.
Áine shrugged. "This is not for me to know or to tell you. Only Merlin knows the answer to that question. You will have to ask him yourself when you find him," she replied. "You must hurry. He is here, somewhere. I do not know where he is, but even if I did, I could not tell you where he was because by telling you, the point of the quest would be futile. You must find him. He is, I will tell you, in trouble – terrible trouble," the Tuatha Dé Danann told the blonde-haired man in a grave voice.
"What happens if I don't?"
"Albion will fall and the golden age of Camelot will never arrive. Your destiny will never be fulfilled, nor will anyone else's. Without him, the future will be bleak," she said. "But, with that point, without your, the future will be bleak and the destiny of all will not happen. You and he are two sides of the same coin. Remember that."
A wind picked up and blew Arthur's hair and cape. He could swear mixing with the howl of the gust, was a cry of dismay, a cry of pain. And then, there was a laugh – a cold and cruel cackle that sent cold chills running up and down Arthur's spine. Wide-eyed, he looked at Áine. "What was that," whispered the man.
Áine looked just as scared as Arthur felt. She wrapped her arms around her thin arms and shivered. "It was Halwn, the Fomhóire," the spirit replied. Her voice tense. "You must go now. Merlin is in far more danger than I thought. He does not have long. Hurry now! Hurry."
The new King tensed his jaw as he nodded. "I won't fail," Arthur promised. Taking a deep breath, he headed into the ruins.
