20 Broken Phoenix
Fortunately or alas – this was a matter of perspective – Algernon had badly misjudged Khilgarrah's mood and intentions.
The Great Dragon landed, folded his wings and bent his head. "Is it done?" he simply asked.
The Druid was too astonished to answer at once. "Yes" he finally replied. "They're all gone, my friend. Your master, his beloved, their child. And the last of the High Priestesses. Whoever will take her place, they'll never fill her shoes.
"And yet they're already tearing Morgause's coat to pieces" Khilgarrah growled. "Who's to be the King in the realm of nothingness?"
"All hail to him or her" Algernon retorted drily, as he was regaining his usual derisive composure. "Why should we care about that, old friend?"
Although the Druid had thought that nothing in this world could ever terrify him after this dreadful day, he had been wrong. As Khilgarrah's huge head shot towards him, all teeth bared in a terrible snarl, Algernon stumbled backwards with an undignified yelp, lost his footing and fell, unceremoniously, on his backside with a thud.
"I. AM. NOT. YOUR. FRIEND" the Great Dragon gnarled, his hot breath reeking of sulphur. "Don't you dare calling me such. I'm not friend with cowards, or opportunists, or cynics who just stand by and let the others err."
"I wasn't aware that you knew what was about to happen to Merlin and Morgana" Algernon, piqued by the name-calling, shot back, somewhat braver than he felt. "Neither was I aware that you moved heaven and earth to prevent it. Imagine, I thought you meekly went to do My Lady's bidding, leaving Merlin to her mercy, same as me."
"I had no choice" Khilgarrah roared heatedly – literally so, as Algernon could see the fire building up deep in the mighty beast's throat. "She was the High Priestess!"
"YES SHE WAS" Algernon screamed, bristling enough with rage to almost make up for his lack of a dignified poise. "But she was wrong!"
"No, she was right" the dragon sighed. Suddenly he withdrew from the Druid, stretched his long neck and pressed his chin to the ground like a frightened kitten. "I've seen what she saw – the future is in turmoil. When Merlin took his destiny in his own hands, when he aligned himself to a Destroyer doomed to be the end of it all, when he bent the timelines to his will – they became …. upset. Destiny rejects his actions and yet he still is at its centre. Confusion, turmoil everywhere, there is no order, no calm, no reliability." More and more distraught, the dragon unfolded his wings and raised his front claws from the ground. "A new world is rising from the mists, but what it will be, no one can tell. If the warlock born of legends, and a Destroyer's child would meddle now – where would it end?" Khilgarrah now dug his four paws into the ground again. "I've seen Albion burn from one end to the other, I've seen fire rain from heaven. And yet there is peace somewhere in between, if only one could find it. Arthur's face haunts my visions, it follows me, into my dreams, and yet I can't sleep. I cannot sleep, Algernon…."
"You're babbling, my poor friend" the Druid said softly. "Forgive me. Please forgive me for thinking you, of all creatures, were unable to feel despair." Soothingly he laid his hand on the dragon's head, just as Merlin had once done, to – unbelievably as it was – scratch the mighty dragon between the ears until he purred.
Khilgarrah shoved the human away, if gently. "They aren't dead" he said with sudden defiance. "Fate will decide, and they will be given back to us, one way or the other. They're creatures of magic, and magic cannot die."
"Where is your kind, Khilgarrah?" asked Algernon. "If they're not dead, where are they?"
"Magic will return the day Merlin rises" the dragon retorted with the stubbornness typical for wishful thinking. "The warlock born of legends cannot have lived in vain."
"So all we have to do is wait!" Algernon stated ironically. "No problem at all, as we've got all the time in the world. Indeed, we have eternity at our disposal."
Khilgarrah huffed. "Your curse, not mine." With these words, he turned away from the surprised Druid and entered the temple.
Algernon found he couldn't stomach the sight of Merlin and Morgana, not with a confused, grieving dragon by his side who spoke in riddles. Not even to himself the Druid admitted that it was Morgause's dead face he couldn't stand the sight of, not now, not ever.
From the temple's inside came terrified screams, people ran from the building and scattered all over the site in panic. Algernon heard a roar, than the raging of flames from the structure, and he closed his eyes.
He should have known it was the only befitting funeral for the last of the High Priestesses, to be consumed by the flames of the last of the Great Dragons.
Algernon waited for Khilgarrah's return for a long, long time. Where the others had gone to, what they were doing – he couldn't care less.
But the Great Dragon did not return.
Finally, after many an hour, Algernon gathered his last remaining courage and went into the temple.
He found Khilgarrah, his head resting on the glass coffin that contained all that still was meaningful to him, and his eyes were closed. He wasn't breathing; at least Algernon could not detect any breath left in the beast. The body felt cold to the touch, hard and cold as stone.
"You said you needed sleep, so you joined them in their slumber" the Druid muttered, stroking Khilgarrah's brow. "How very selfish of you. You left me behind, you egoist."
With a last pat on the mighty head, Algernon sighed, and left, sure that no one would ever dare to enter this building again, until the end of all days. If there still was such a thing.
Outside, he stretched his weary muscles and bones.
"What a day" he said aloud. "What a blessing, tomorrow will be so very peaceful. And next week. Or next year."
But behind his cheerful façade, Algernon mourned all he had lost, friends, a world, a life…. a Queen. "Arthur" he thought. "It is up to you now."
The thought accompanied him to his bed and during a sleepless night, doubtlessly the first of many yet to come. "I beg of you, my King, it can't have been for nothing."
And as he carried on existing, as nobody had the mercy to kill him, this thought was the only thing between the Druid and insanity.
Perhaps Algernon would have wished and hoped less fiercely had he known what a burden his own life was to Arthur.
Margaly had been laid to rest with all the honours and the morbid pomp a Pendragon Crown Princess was entitled to. Among the ashes and ruins of Camelot, squeezed into the never ending procession of corpses being brought to the graveyard, the procedure had been a ghostly vision, a nightmare more than a ceremony.
Hardly had the guests ever looked at the small coffin of Arthur's child. It had been the father, not the dead daughter, people had stared at.
The Kingdom was in shambles and they wanted somebody who told them what to do and that all would be well in the end.
And the story of Arthur's wondrous appearance at the height of battle, in the night of all nights, how he had talked to the Great Dragon and how the beast had surrendered to him grew and grew, into the realms of the utterly impossible, and far beyond.
Indeed, those people loved their King, with the cruel passion of egomaniacs, selfish, demanding, reckless and inconsiderate.
Their golden hero, their phoenix from the ashes, he would move his hand and all would be well. Nobility or commoner, rich merchant and poor labourer, they all tried to survive as best they could.
They all waited.
Nobody even imagined the possibility of King Arthur Pendragon having not more of an idea how to go on from here than the next farm serf had.
For all his proud and gallant speeches he had made to Gwaine, about work, and serving the people, and a lot of other things, the King withdrew from his people, with only wish in his heart – that they should all go and rot and finally – finally – leave him in peace.
Superfluous to say that the King of Camelot could have his every whim, his every wish fulfilled in an instant, but not that one.
Three days was all Arthur had to gather his wits, to bury his daughter in his heart as he had buried her beneath the ground, before Gwaine, Leon and Gaius forced their way into his quarters, with Alice and Hunith in their wake.
It was the most unlikely bunch of people possible to berate a King, and yet there was nobody else.
"We did what we could, Sire" Leon stated bluntly. "The nobles are getting restless, and tired of taking orders from a bunch of knights. It's your word or rebellion. We're short of food, of shelter, of everything."
"Let the Branguards sort it out" Arthur snapped. "And where is My Lord the Duke of Cornwall? If he was strong enough to bed another man's woman, he can also rule another man's Kingdom, at least for a while!"
"We've had news, Sire" Gwaine said most reluctantly. "Tristan is dead. He fell in the very first skirmish of this war. Iseult took her own life when she could not avoid capture by her first husband's men."
"Heavens above" Arthur murmured. "If there is any justice left in this world, Duke Marke will not have a single peaceful moment in his life."
"Duke Marke is not the issue here" Gaius interjected. "He has become an old, tattering fool overnight, you cannot count on him. You distinguished the Branguards above all others, envy brought them hatred, not respect. They were heeded when there was no other choice, but now it is you we need, Sire. So far, nobody doubts your crown."
"Is that so?" Arthur asked back. "Then what are you doing here, in my quarters, without my invitation? Get out, the lot of you. Gaius, Hunith, you stay!"
Leon rolled his eyes, Gwaine was about to protest, but a punitive stare from Alice convinced them that they could do no good at present. Their anger showed, though, when they shuffled out of the room, and Gwaine closed the door with a bang.
Alice just hid behind her husband as best she could and ignored the King's order. By no way she would leave Gaius now, not as long as Arthur had not even heard the worst.
Gaius braced himself silently for what he knew must come now and, as he had thought, it came.
"Where is he, Gaius?" Arthur asked. "And my sister? Why weren't they here when it really counted, when Camelot needed them most?" He didn't say what anyone present knew he was thinking: "When I needed them most?"
"If they're dead or alive, it doesn't matter, they're lost to us" Gaius said, and his grief didn't show; neither in his voice nor in his face. "Magic has left this world, the Isle is no more. The Old Religion is dead."
Arthur stared at him, awestricken. "Have you taken leave of your senses, old man?"
"I've been in contact with magic all my life, Sire. It is a part of me, not as much as with Merlin, but I know when it is gone. There is a way…. a spell, if you want to call it that, by which the Isle of the Blessed can take magic away from this world forever." Gaius inhaled deeply before he continued "Morgause or whoever did this has chosen our fate. Your father's war has been won without him. Camelot, and later on all Albion, will become a Christian realm."
"Leave the Kingdom's fate to me, Gaius. I asked you about Merlin's!"
Gaius was ready to answer but Hunith spoke first. "I'm not a magician myself, Your Majesty" she said gently. "But I know my son. I can feel it, too. Things have changed. Merlin can no longer be in this world."
Arthur looked at her strained face and knew it was true. The heart breaking knowledge that she would never find her child again changed her, as it had already changed him.
Merlin and Morgana would never return.
He was alone.
But then a sudden spark of hope made Arthur jump. "The Druids…."
"They're gone, Sire. Since the day after the battle, not a single Druid could be found in all of Camelot. Algernon, the Elders … vanished, their villages are abandoned, as are their shrines."
"Where have they gone? And why? I wouldn't blame them!"
"They've followed the Isle, for all their fine talks of independence, they've always done that. Those who stayed in our world are ordinary people now, their powers gone, their meaning in life, to protect the Old Religion, is gone too." Gaius chuckled bitterly. "Your father would be pleased."
Arthur winced. "So it has all come to nothing" he said, more to himself than to the others. "Uther won, I lost and there's an end to it."
For once Gaius, always the sage, always the know-all, had no idea what to say, no advice to give, no comfort to spent, as he was in dire need of all these fine things himself, but nobody in reach to hand them out to him. He had a terrible, final feeling that all had been said, and that nothing was left to discuss. Merlin was dead, and so was Camelot, so was Albion and so were all their dreams.
The old healer bowed to his King's back, took his wife's reluctant hand, and made haste to get out as if all seven hells were after them.
Arthur heard them leave and thought he was alone.
He took the nearest chair and slumped down on it, his head in his hands. Gods, what he would give if some supernatural power came down from heaven and wiped it all away, all the greed, the stupidity, all the wrong twists and turns fate had taken since the day his father had decided that he must have a son at any price.
"It is still worthwhile, Arthur" Hunith said when she took his hand, startling him off his dreary thoughts. "What you have been to my son, nobody else could have been. You, and you alone, have given his life a purpose. Don't let him down."
"He's dead and I'm alone" Arthur shot back, and his free hand flew to the hilt of his dagger. As if she was the enemy he was looking for, the one he could strike down, in place of all the others that were out of reach.
For as long as a breath, temptation was almost irresistible. To take the weapon, to do as he pleased, as he was a King, and could do what he wanted, no one could stop him.
In this very moment, Uther was with his son, his voice was droning in Arthur's ears. The power over another's life or death filled Arthur's veins and head like strong wine, gave strength where weakness had humiliated him, an illusion of power and surety where disorientation had been, and shaking grounds.
Slay a serf, who dares asking you why? Pass the threshold, and leave the pain behind, where you are going, neither conscience nor regret will ever trouble you again.
The dangerous moment came – and it passed, unused.
Arthur would never knew, why he had not done it. And Hunith would never tell anyone how close she had come to death. She had seen it in his eyes, felt it in the muscles of his hand and arm. The itch to strike, and strike again, until his hurt would dissolve in hers.
"No" she just said. "There is Galahad. And …. somebody else, if only you would allow her back into your heart."
"I granted her a chance for peace and for all I know, she's found it. I will not take that away from her." His answer was quick, and smooth, liked learned by heart but never meant.
"She was Margaly's mother, how can she be at peace, unless she's with you and her son?"
"For the Gods' sake, woman, as much as for your own, LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Arthur bent his neck with relief when he heard the door clap.
Thank heaven.
At the touch of two soft hands on his shoulders, he roared with wrath and darted to his feet. "I swear I'll…."
He stopped in midsentence when he recognized her face.
"Let me stay, Arthur" Guinivere said, her voice a throaty, hoarse whisper. "Let me stay and I swear I'll never leave you again, not ever."
A hundred and a thousand possible things shot through Arthur's head at once, of what to say to her, and how, or what to do now.
"Our little girl" was all he really said. "Our little Margaly."
Three months later, the people of Camelot were glad, for no reason at all in all their ongoing misery and troubles they were hilariously glad, to hear that Her Highness the King's wife was once again with child.
Minnie and her husband, still recovering from their own ordeal, still marvelling at the King's order for their release the moment the Princess Margaly had been laid to rest, shouted louder than anyone.
In the happy hurly-burly of an impromptu party in every place where the rubble permitted nobody heeded the announcement that the Healers' Seminar, which had been about to be closed, would be kept open. For the time being. Just in case of an emergency.
Nobody but Alice knew that Gaius had locked himself up in his room and cried his heart out.