Heeyyy :)
~20~ Always the Story
Argus Vane raged inwardly as he regarded the sombre cultists standing before them. On one side stood the Blackhands who failed to recapture the knight of Camelot. The other side were those who were too slow to stop the marked servant from stealing the Silver Heart. In less than an hour, they had once again lost everything they had fought for.
He studied their remorseful, pitiful faces, wishing that he could flog each and every one of them himself. But he knew that that would accomplish nothing on so many levels.
He turned away from them and climbed up the rickety tower stars to his chambers above. There, Claudius the soothsayer was waiting for him, along with his best warriors.
"We set out at dawn," Vane barked. "We will track down the Pendragon king, or else surround Camelot and wait until he comes out.
"The infected servant will not stay away forever," he continued. "We will catch him and reclaim the Silver Heart if it costs us our lives. Do you understand?"
The cultists nodded silently, and Vane waved them away.
"Do this, and you will all be rewarded. If not adequately from me, then from Nocturn himself. Now go. Ready your men."
Ͻ Ϫ Ͻ
As was custom, Bowen and Merlin were bidden to sit by the fire as the Druid shaman prepared them a meal. She placed a pot on a rack over the pit of green flames and proceeded to boil water. On a small table near the tent, she took several herbs from different piles and placed them in a tea pot.
Merlin couldn't help but stare at the emerald flames, attracted to them like a moth.
"You're wondering why my cook fire is green, correct, Emrys?"
The warlock jumped sheepishly at the shaman's question. "Actually, yes. Is it hotter? Does it have magical properties?"
"No. It's just green." The shaman brought him and Bowen a plate of crumbly cheese, bread and two strawberries each. She also offered food for Kilgharrah, but the dragon snorted smoke in amusement and declined politely.
The shaman waited patiently for Bowen and Merlin to finish, then the warlock asked, "What's your name?"
"Names are powerful things, Emrys. You will do well to remember that." The look the woman gave him made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. "They call me Gabriela now. Just Gabriela."
"And why did you want to see me, Gabriela? Some prophecy or something? Destiny's plan? That's always the story."
"It is usually the story, isn't it? But not this time. This time, you are stuck in a situation that you can't get out of yourself."
"Yeah. I figured that much."
Gabriela studied him with her black eyes, the sternness back in her features now that she wasn't smiling. "The mark of the beast is strong on you. You have turned once before, yes?"
Merlin nodded numbly, suddenly unable to meet her gaze.
"You need not be ashamed, only cautious."
"Cautious?"
The shaman busied herself with preparing the tea before answering. With her back turned, she said, "I can See the wolf in you, circling you, thirsting to get out and hunt."
"You can See it? Like the Silverbloods? What does it look like?"
"Yes, Emrys. I can See like them, because I am one of them. As for your other question, the beast within takes the shape of a great wolf, transparent like a guardian spirit, only its intentions couldn't be blacker." She came and sat down again, staring slightly to the side of Merlin as though studying a ghost at his shoulder. "It paces around you, occasionally scratching at something none, not even I, can See. However, it is strangely tame."
"You're a Silverblood?"
"I said that, yes."
Merlin shook his head, incredulous. "But...how? And why are you here, with the Druids?"
"What is with the sudden ridiculous questions, Emrys? I am what I am and I'm here because I choose to be. What you should be asking is, Why are you here?"
"I...kind of already asked that."
"Well, is it not obvious? You're here for a cure."
Merlin didn't even bother to feel elation. "Is that so." Gabriela lifted an eyebrow.
"Are you not relieved?
"I would be, only it's not going to be easy to get a cure, is it? I'll probably have to cross dangerous terrain and face vile monsters and hope I get back in time to save Arthur before the stroke of midnight, because that's always the story."
A deep ruk ruk sound came from deep within Kilgharrah's throat, and it took a moment for the others to realize that he was chuckling.
"Your pessimism is understandably wrought, young warlock," the dragon chortled. "But you need not despair this time. The cure is in your hands."
Merlin glanced down at his empty palms, clasped on his lap.
"Figuratively speaking, Merlin. By the First Egg, I wonder if destiny did right by its choice." Kilgharrah chuckled again, proof of his joshing.
"So then, what do you mean?" asked the warlock, frowning. "Is there a spell that I'm strong enough to use?"
"In a way...no," replied Gabriela, who passed around steaming mugs of tea. Merlin gratefully took a sip, relishing the taste of sweat honey on his tongue. "It's not so much as a spell than a ritual. You know the properties of the Silver Heart?"
Merlin started. The Heart! He'd totally forgotten about the animal figurine, now recognized as a wolf, which he had placed in his shirt for safekeeping. Now he pulled it out, half of it warm from being against his skin. Emerald streaks reflected off the silver metal, flickering with the fire.
"Aah, there it is. It's been many years since I've laid eyes on it last. May I...?"
The servant handed it over willingly, but just as it left his fingers, he became suddenly very uneasy. He held his arm out even as Gabriela brought the Heart closer to inspect it, then as the feeling passed, he snatched his hand back. Ignoring the strange looks he received from Bowen and Kilgharrah, Merlin took a deep breath, abruptly realizing that he had been unable to smell like a hound ever since he had touched the Heart the night before. Now, the tea in the mug before him was nearly overwhelming, the concoction of herbs and honey filling his nostrils as thickly as water. However, it was easy to ignore the tea and focus on the sap seeping from the tree five paces away, or the rainy, metallic odour emitting from Kilgharrah's tough scales.
He was watching the silent squirrel he hadn't noticed before he caught its musky-scented fur high above in a tree, when he realized that Gabriela was staring, not right at him, but more through him, and figured that she must be Seeing the wolf within him.
"Remarkable," she was saying, frowning. "As soon as I took this from you, the wolf began to fight at invisible bonds. Here, take it back."
Merlin grasped the Heart around the stomach, and the tea, sap, scales, and squirrel were no longer detectable.
"And just like that, tame as a old dog," Gabriela muttered. She finally met Merlin's gaze. "The wonders created by the Archons of the Ancient Kingdom can never be truly fathomed, not in this life, nor, perhaps, the next."
"This was made by a god?"
"No, Archons are not gods, nor are gods Archons. They are the beings of a bygone age, once as alive as you and I now, but that is a tale for another time." She indicated at the Silver Heart with a nod. "They are gone, but their legacies and their creations live on, as well as that which controls them. This is one such thing."
Merlin looked down at the small figurine, the incomprehension that it had once been in the hands of an ancient Archon swallowing his mind. "How can this be?"
"What do you mean, Emrys?"
"The Archons lived thousands of years ago, before even the dragons. Kilgharrah said werewolves rivalled their age – are werewolves older than dragons?"
"There is only so much knowledge the world gives freely, Emrys, and even less is given without great reluctance. I cannot say how old werewolves are, only that an Archon had also made this Silver Heart, so as to control them."
"So...someone would have had to write down what it does, or we wouldn't know about it today."
"That is done easily enough."
"Then...it...It was found by the Silverbloods?" Merlin still felt confused. "Would it not be hidden away? Something so old and made by something older can't have been just lying around."
"Can't it?" The shaman finally smiled again at Merlin's awestruck expression. Then she patted his knee with a hand darkened by dots of skin paint. "It shall be another story for a later date. For now, we must find a way to banish the beast from your soul."
"And from Arthur."
Smile widening, Gabriela inclined her head. "Of course, the Pendragon king as well."
Though not entirely appeased, Merlin sat straighter in the stool, and studied the Heart more closely. It was intricately made, with even hairs carefully carved into the likeness of a rough but healthy wolf. Its head was slightly tilted back, as through readying itself to howl to the moon. He sighed.
"It's not going to be easy, is it? Probably have to sacrifice and arm and a leg to get it, because that's—"
"Always the story," chanted the others in perfect unison. They grinned at Merlin's indignant expression, even Bowen.
Isn't it though? I mean honestly! Always midnight...
"Pelagius told me once: 'There is no worse death than the end of hope.'" ~ Arthur (King Arthur)
