13. The Sacred Gifts

From the hill's height Merlin looked at the peaceful village. It seemed so tranquil, forgotten by all evil. "It's hard to believe they're under an insidious siege."

"And you're supposed to be the peasant in our midst" Morgana snorted disdainfully. "Look at the fields. The rye should be blooming. Where is it?"

"The grow rye here?" Gwaine stepped in when he saw Merlin's guilt stricken face. Once, after a few glasses of ale, the warlock had confessed that, even though he'd been born a peasant, he was hopeless as a farmer. Rye or wheat or millet – he could hardly tell them apart. "Small wonder your mother sent you off to live with Gaius" Gwaine had drily stated. "Too much lofty magic in your head to care for the plants growing from the ground." Merlin had denied that only partly. "I did care. I wanted them all to grow and thrive. Especially the pretty, bright-coloured ones." Gwaine still fondly remembered the endearing, helpless shrug that had accompanied the warlock's next words: "How was I to know that the pretty ones were weed and the plain ones were for food?"

"Some barley, but mostly rye and oat in turn" Morgana now replied, bringing Gwaine back to the here and now. "Ever since it came to us after Cendred's death, the region has been the main supplier for both in all of Camelot. With our own suppliers still suffering from war time damages, neither our soldiers nor our horses will go very far if this region's harvest fails us."

"A logical choice for Morgause's first strike" Merlin made good on his former blunder. Other than his farming skills his understanding for military matters had grown tremendously over the years.

As had his sense for vengeful propriety in others. Now that the uneasy truce between a High Priestess and a peasant warlock had come to an end, this village's unhappiness was a top priority for Morgause.

Morgana guffawed mirthlessly. "All twelve villages in this region had a bad harvest on their last winter seed, without any identifiable reason the plants just didn't thrive. Now these same villages have lost their water supplies. That's not a coincidence."

"And Morgause herself brought this problem to your attention?"

"With her first message" Morgana confirmed Gwaine's assumption. "She didn't claim responsibility, but it was clearly a threat. Back then I thought it to be a warning shot, a show of power. Now I know it's an outright attack where it hurts us most. Our army or these peasants – someone will go hungry this year and Arthur will be blamed for it."

"No he won't" Merlin said with some determination that earned him an astonished side-glance from Gwaine. "After all we came to put your sister in her place! Right?"

After a second of silence, the warlock's strained face turned towards the Queen. "Right, Morgana?"

Morgana swallowed visibly before she answered. "Yes. And we can as well start now!"

She spurred her horse to a light trot down the gentle slope that led to the village. Head and back erect, but her hands were slightly trembling.

"She's taking it hard" Gwaine muttered softly.

Merlin just nodded.

"You know" the knight went on "I've always thought she'd betray Arthur in the end, but never her sister. Now I feel..."

"Idiotic?" Merlin hissed back poisonously.

Gwaine cocked a brow and frowned, but then his face softened. "You've thought exactly the same my friend" he mused silently. "You don't like her plan one bit, you're just feeling guilty for distrusting her."

The knight wrinkled his nose in thought. Those Pendragons. They sure knew how to make real friends. After all a certain Gwaine had once sworn that he'd never become a knight, never serve a King. And look at the man today, voluntarily wearing a uniform with a piece of furniture on it! And the greatest warlock of all times had certainly fallen for them too. If Morgana's pregnancy wasn't a dead give-away - last night's sounds from the tent sure were. These odd sounds of a female voice crying in bitter hurt and disappointment and the soft, comforting male murmur. Until it had all ended in some rustling and shuffling that had sent Sir Gwaine into the brushwood with some haste.

For the rest of the short way down no one said anything, but Gwaine shook his head when he saw the warlock force his horse to Morgana's side, reaching for her hand. "Poor Merlin. Must've been hellish to think that one day you'd be forced to choose between your best friend and the woman you love. I'm glad you were spared the choice."

Morgana dismounted in front of the first house. Merlin virtually flew off his horse and to the middle-aged woman who opened her arms to him. Gwaine wanted to follow him but Morgana caught his arm. "Give them a minute. It has been a while."

"My boy" Hunith meanwhile whispered into the warlock's ear. "My Merlin. I'm so glad to see you."

She was so lost in her son's embrace that one of the men cleared his throat and stepped forward without waiting for her to say or do anything. "Your Majesty. Sir Knight. I'm Keith Carpenter, elder of this village. Our prayers have been heard. Welcome. Welcome to Ealdor."

"This is Merlin" the knight snapped irritatedly, pointing at the young warlock. "He's changed a good deal since he's grown up here, hasn't he. Maybe you didn't recognize him."

Still the village elder refused to fully look at the sorcerer. Instead he stared over Gwaine's shoulder at the hill, as if he expected to see some other people coming down the slope.

Now that they were close to the cottages and fields not even Merlin could fail to notice the devastation. Barns and stables were empty, no young animals, no storages. People's faces were haggard and drawn. Grim features everywhere. No one smiled.

No one but Hunith, of course. "Morgana, my dear. It's good to have you back" she said when she finally let go of her son. "I never doubted fate would bring you back to us one day."

Keith Carpenter paled a bit at this casual greeting of the Queen and he gave the royal a furtive side-glance. However he had no need to worry, for Morgana returned Hunith's warm hug with all her heart.

Until the peasant woman frowned and shoved the royal back to scrutinize her body. "Was that what I think it was?"

Both Morgana and Merlin blushed crimson and Hunith had no more questions left to ask.

Whilst the other bystanders looked puzzled, she sighed and shook her head punitively. "There are obviously some interesting tales to tell. We've heard about... matters in Camelot occasionally. Some stories must have been wildly exaggerated. But it will have to wait 'til after you've eaten and rested, especially you, Morgana!"

Keith wanted to say something but he didn't get the chance as Hunith continued "I've got only one question for you, My Lady. Does your brother know?"

"He does" Gwaine intervened determinedly. For his taste this public interrogation had gone far enough. "And he's looking forward to the joyous event!"

This earned the knight a radiant smile from Merlin's mother. "You must be Gwaine. You're exactly as Gaius described you in his letters." She turned towards her cottage. "Come in. Dinner'll be ready in a minute."

However, Keith and the others were at the end of their tether. "Your Majesty will forgive me but where is your brother? Thrice we've send word about our desolation to Camelot and no answer from our King!"

Every inch a Queen, Morgana raised her chin. Telling these people that only Morgause's own message had actually made it to Camelot was useless. "King Arthur is preparing Camelot for an assault of King Alined's so called army of cut-throats and mercenaries. He's entrusted the safekeeping of your villages to me."

Now one of the others lost his patience. A giant of a man, a blacksmith by appearance. "Ma'am, we're under assault, too. And, beg your pardon, this isn't a matter for Ladies to chatter about. This needs the King's swords and soldiers. Are we so unimportant in your brother's eyes that he can't spare a few men to solve this?"

"I understand that you're attacked by magic" Merlin said harshly, louder than he usually spoke. "I assure you, you've got the best of Camelot's resources to deal with this!"

Once more the villagers ignored the warlock so very pointedly that it was an insult in itself.

"With Your Majesty's permission" Keith retook control of the conversation, pulling the officious blacksmith back, "we've seen you fight for us before. But what we're up against here..." he shrugged awkwardly. "His Majesty's sword and strength has helped us in the past and that's what this calls for, a man's sword and a pyre in the centre of the village for this evil sorcerer breed. Just like the priest said, God rest his soul."

Consenting murmurs rose from all the men and from some of the women who'd by now joined the group around the newcomers. "Yes, like Father Cassius said, let them burn. 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live', he said, and right he was."

Gwaine gritted his teeth as he saw Hunith put a protective arm around her son's shoulders. Only now the knight saw the makeshift little church near the village's well. So that was how the wind blew!

The Queen's face hardened. Abruptly she turned back and leaped unto her horse. "Then show me what we're up against and I will show you that I and Camelot's Court Sorcerer need neither your faith and support to deal with this nor any superstitious nonsense, Christian or otherwise. Let's go!"

"You can't Morgana" Hunith shouted in horror. "You're outnumbered five to one. They must've seen you coming, they're expecting you by the old river bed. Child, think of your baby!"

Gwaine mounted too. "Now we're getting somewhere. Hunith, can you tell us what exactly is the matter here?"

Keith answered in her place. "A messenger came to us from the Isle of the Blessed. They demanded an oath of allegiance from us, that we would obey the Isle and no one else. We've become good Christians here and we are true subjects of our King. So we refused and the High Priestess sent us ten sorcerers who've step by step ruined our fields and livestock, and now they've cut off our water supply. We're done for."

"And this Crampus or what's his name tried to negotiate with them?" Gwaine asked impatiently.

"He wasn't one to negotiate with filthy sorcerers, our Father Cassius wasn't" the Blacksmith piped up once more. "He raised his Holy Cross to exorcise these unclean demons from our soil but they sent a pillar of fire against him and burned him to cinder, before our very eyes!"

The man's words were accompanied by yelling and shouting of the other villagers, raised fists and forks over faces flushed red with anger and hatred. Gwaine had a cold feeling in his stomach as he saw how many fists and impromptu weapons pointed more towards Hunith and her son than towards the spot where the attackers were allegedly waiting.

It was clear, Ealdor wasn't different from many other villages Gwaine had seen on his travels all over Albion. It didn't take much to stir up one group of people against another who looked different or spoke different or whatever. And yet they wouldn't dare insulting the Queen of Camelot to her face. No, they'd rather vent their fear and helplessness on one of their own who'd happened to rise above them for no apparent merit, or so they thought.

"All right then" the knight said coldly. "If you do not want our help, suit yourself. We'll inform Arthur about your predicament and we'll see if the King of Camelot can make the time to think about your sheds and piglets after you've offended the Queen's Majesty so viciously!"

Without waiting for an answer the knight turned his mount towards home, perfectly willing to leave the darn place for good.

However, as if they'd planned it in advance, Merlin and Morgana rode on towards the dry and ugly river bed which once had been the lifeline of a dozen bustling and happy villages.

Not one of Ealdor's inhabitants made a move to follow them.

"Oh, to hell with it all" Gwaine murmured despairingly. "Can they never listen to reason?"

The knight spurred his mare.

Towards the river bed, of course. Where else could he go? Cursed be the day he'd decided to help two stupid youngsters who'd bitten off more than they could chew in a bar brawl. Up to that day Gwaine had be a free man; now look what Arthur's noble talks and Merlin's puppy-like innocence had made of him. Yes, well, damn it, and his wife's fine qualities, and the fact that Camelot was a great place to live in, with great people to be with, and...

The seasoned warhorse shied suddenly, as someone had come into her path. "Take me with you, Gwaine. Oh, please, take me with you!"

Hunith's pleading face looked up at the man towering over her. Without a word, the knight took her by the arm and pulled her on his horse. "This is madness" she whispered into his ear as she settled behind him. "Their baby..."

"Merlin knows what he's doing" Gwaine said reassuringly and he dearly wished he'd believe in his own words. "He won't let any harm come to her. Nor to you or the others, even though they don't deserve his help."

Hunith had no desire to discuss her fellow villagers' shortcomings, she'd resigned to them long ago. Besides, other questions were burning on her nails. "Is it true? Uther wanted to get rid of his son but fell over his own two feet, Morgana's tried to kill her father and brother, in the service of her sister who's now the High Priestess, but then Arthur made it up with her, they share the throne and now Queen Morgana and my son are..."

"Yes" Gwaine said drily "that's about it. In a nutshell."

Merlin's mother hissed through her teeth, in a mixture of awe and joyful fascination. "Great Mother, what a woman."

"Yep" the knight confirmed again. "That about covers it. Whatever your future daughter-in-law may be, she sure is remarkable."

However, the time for chatting about the complicated circumstances of Arthur's miraculous survival and accession to the throne of Camelot was over as Queen and warlock halted by the rim of the river bed.

For a moment, they both were speechless, virtually flabbergasted by what they saw. Morgana regained her voice first. "So Algernon's fears are well founded" she remarked tight-lipped. "Two Druid tribes preferred allegiance with the Isle to their own people and look what perfect use Morgause and Armand have made of them."

"But these are kids" an aghast Merlin replied. "Just kids. Druid children." And these youngsters should have burned an old, foolish man alive, should've threatened a whole village with death and extinction? Impossible!

Spontaneously the warlock decided that they'd got it all wrong. There would be no war. Some kids from the Blessed Isle had been overzealous and that was that. "Well, that should make our mission much easier" he said much relieved, dismounted and straightened his back, resolved to set this right with a few, well-placed words. Like Arthur would have done. Just playing out his natural authority. Piece of cake.

Resolutely Merlin walked forward, ignoring Morgana's warning to stay back.

The group of Druid youngsters, all clad in similar white robes and hoods with the Isle's tree crest prominent on their chest had now risen from their various resting places in their small encampment under a few trees to meet their visitors.

The first one, a boy who couldn't be older than 15 or 16, raised his hand. "This is far enough, Emrys. No further!"

"You may well say that it is far enough" the Court Sorcerer replied sharply. "You're harassing these people wrongfully and without due cause. I order you to release the river's waters and then leave, immediately."

"On whose authority?"

Merlin turned and pointed at Morgana as well as at the small dragon banner that Gwaine, unreliable as always when it came to propriety and protocol, had hastily pulled out of his bag in the very last second. It almost fell from his hand and Hunith steadied it with a quick grip.

The warlock's eyes widened at the sight of his apologetically smiling mother but he couldn't afford to lose the beat now. "By the authority of the Crown of Camelot. As the Court Sorcerer and by order of the Queen herself I tell you: Leave while you still can."

There. That should be enough to put a few kids in their shoes until Morgause came to swaddle them.

The boyish leader, an extremely handsome youngster with golden hair and amber-coloured eyes, smiled; an angelic smile on a face far too young and fragile to ever look sinister.

"Merlin, watch it!" Morgana and Gwaine shouted simultaneously, but it was too late.

A ball of brilliant, hot light hit the unsuspecting warlock from behind and send him flying back. Merlin somersaulted when he hit the ground several metres away, hard. Winded and nauseous he stayed where he was, paralysed and disoriented by a blinding pain in his head and body.

It was the anguished scream of a female voice that startled him out of his stupor. "Morgana, no!"

Through the mist that seemed to cover his eyes Merlin saw Hunith run towards the group of sorcerers who by now made front against another female figure who stood before them, arms raised high above her head, chanting some words Merlin didn't understand.

A strong gust of wind swept over the scene, then another. Uncomprehending the warlock saw his mother and Gwaine, directly behind her, come to a halt, then fall to their knees. With both arms over their heads they tried to protect themselves from a roaring blizzard that had appeared out of nowhere. Gone was the sun, black clouds darkened the sky and the storm howled like a tormented being.

Then the rain came. Only this wasn't like any rain Merlin had ever seen before. Wherever he looked, there was water, raging, scourging the dried out earth, ripping the soil away, flogging the trees until their branches and trunks broke with terrifying, splintering sounds. When the warlock tried to breathe there was no air but water; when he tried to get up the sheer vehemence of the water nailed him to the ground.

And suddenly it was cold. Unbelievably, stunningly cold. The kind of cold that kills, silently but without mercy.

And yet the warlock did not figure out what was happening until his own magic rose inside him, screaming at him, howling madly. Danger! This was wrong. This was utterly, totally wrong!

"Morgana!" Miraculously Merlin made it to his feet, tried to fight his way towards the place where he'd last seen his companions. But, merciless and uncaring, the forces of nature, unleashed by a magic stronger and more vengeful than anything Merlin could ever have imagined, forced him to his knees after only two or three steps. The young sorcerer fought for air, for a few seconds more of consciousness as he slowly realised what had happened.

Morgana, enraged by the attack against her love, had instinctively called her magic, ignoring every precaution, every restraint Merlin had tried to teach her.

Without another strong magician's support and additional hold over them, her gifts ran wild. The sorceress' singular powers were completely out of control; alone Morgana could not call them back. For miles around they would not spare anything, alive or dead, until, at the very end, they'd consume the very person who'd send them out in the first place.

By now Merlin himself was howling like a madman, tears of wrath and fear streamed over his face only to be washed away by the brutal rain before he noticed them. "Morgana! Where are you? Answer me, love, please. Please, oh please, where are you?"

Lightning struck the earth all around him, thunder roared in the sky and the storm grew even stronger; it uprooted trees, let solid rock fly through the air like pebbles thrown by a wilful child.

Nature raged in madness and there was no limit to its wrath. It was loud. Deafening, head-splitting, unimaginably loud. And yet, through all the ruckus, a distant growl was audible all of a sudden and the earth began to tremble.

The roaring of water! From somewhere distant a flood was rolling down the old river bed, devouring anything in its way.

Sobbing, shaking, Merlin tried to regain control of his own magic that squirmed and wriggled inside him like a frightened animal. With all his might he lashed out with it, blindly, with the one thought only, to find Morgana's presence. To contain her magic. Or to die with her. Nothing else was important in this apocalypse. Just to find her. Just to not die alone in this nightmare of uproar and chaos.

On all fours Merlin crawled forward, forward, on and on, unseeing, his ears no longer able to withstand the sounds of nature dying all around him. In his mind there was an eerie quiet, disturbed by one thought alone. Morgana! He had to find her.

His hand touched something. A boot, clothes, a face. Somehow he knew that it wasn't her and he crawled on, without a second thought for whom he had found there, probably dead or dying in the mud.

Again his searching fingers made contact with human flesh. Again, a face, a head. In reflex Merlin pulled when he felt long, and still, despite wetness and dirt, silky hair. He pulled and pulled and only dimly he marvelled at the lack of resistance from the body. Until he finally realised that he was dragging a severed head after him; the head of a young girl, with blond hair and wide open, horrified blue eyes, her face a distorted mask of agony.

With a scream he let go. He lashed and kicked wildly until, by sheer luck, his feet hit the head and send it flying into the darkness and the storm.

Struggling frantically he crawled on and on. Not knowing why, how or where he was going.

After what might have been seconds or hours, he bumped head first into another female body. With all his remaining strength he raised his head and shoulders until he could see something of her face, through the still tormenting rain and wind.

Black hair, white delicate skin, long, silky lashes he'd recognized everywhere. With an outcry he collapsed on her body, embracing her, crying, stammering her name, again and again.

However, Morgana did not stir. Her skin was cold, her face blank. Whatever was happening to her now she was way beyond feeling it.

The ground beneath Merlin trembled stronger now. The flood was near. Soon it would drown the valley, the village and the humans who'd foolhardily thought their strive for power important enough to tamper with nature's forces until it was too late.

Exhausted, aching and with a mortal sadness about this shameful, senseless incapablity, Merlin let his head fall on Morgana's chest and closed his eyes.