Really, really apologise for the long time since the last update; nice weather and all that. I promise that I will see this story through.

Thanks for your patience and enjoy.

Chapter 21: Dreamer's Quest

King Lot's five thousand men were on their way, but there was not yet the sign of any army on approach. The hillside, the fields; all were peaceful and quiet but for the occasional scout or messenger galloping at high speed. Inside the monastery, however, it was quite a different story. Known a place of silence and prayers, the old fortress was now filled with echoes of its glorious past: marching feet and the clanging of shields and swords. King Lot, it seemed, had quite an arsenal at his disposal and his men had been promptly put to the task of emptying out the armoury. The weapons had to polish and prepared swiftly to be used in the upcoming battle.

Alone on the top of the highest tower, Arthur Pendragon was restless. His mind had not yet managed to work around the fact that he was preparing to march on Camelot, his city. Also, he knew nothing about those five thousand men that he was going to lead, except the fact that they were loyal to King Lot. How was he, King Arthur of Camelot, going to inspire these men to follow him into battle? He was a stranger to them. Moreover, he was unsure about what they were going to face. Morgause's thugs would be no match for King Lot's army. But what of her magic and of the Dragonlord by her side? The Dragon Shades were now guarding the city like vultures. What could armed men do against such dark magic?

Where was Merlin when you really needed him?

Arthur sighed heavily. The knot in his stomach had nothing to do with the nervousness of having to lead five thousand men. It was Merlin's stupid quest. Only an idiot would think that going to the World of the Dead was a good plan. What did he really hope to achieve by it? Undo what Morgause has done. Find a way to overpower the man called LeNoir. No one could doubt Merlin's good intentions, but it was a dreamer's quest. The World of the Dead itself was an ancient tale. But, in spite of appearances, Merlin was not a fool and he knew the stakes well. He would not let this go. He would face whatever evil lay out there for him. He would offer his life without a second thought.

And that was what scared Arthur the most.

"That's not a bad hiding place."

Arthur did not need to turn around to recognize Gwaine's casual tone. The knight strode to the king's side to look over the hillside as well. His hair was wind-swept and his hands dirty, probably from riding on the muddy road.

"Looks peaceful and quiet up here," said Gwaine, "but they're out there, Sire. You can be sure of that. I just saw them myself. At least eight hundred men are gathered just beyond that rocky hill. Five thousand might have been exaggerated, but you will have at least two thousand, if not more."

Arthur pressed his hands harder on the stone wall. He knew that the delays were too short and that the other lords just might not be able to answer in time. Still, it was more than he had hoped for when he had followed Merlin to this distant land.

"Two thousand will do fine," he said to Gwaine.

"It will be a lot more when we reach Camelot and regroup with our people," the knight offered. "The important point is that you have made a powerful friend here."

Arthur could not help but scoff. "Merlin has made a powerful friend. We are merely guests. Even Morgana is considered a visitor although she has lived here for years now. It was the same thing in Aria's Cradle. Being Lord Merlin suits him. Just look at the way everyone looks up to him. King Lot treats him almost like a son."

Gwaine smiled annoyingly at that. "You can't have him all to yourself, you know."

"I can't have a sorcerer for a servant, that much is certain," Arthur replied between gritted teeth. "If we return – when we return – things will be different. It will never be as it was. Magic will no longer be outlawed, and my advisor will be a… – I can't believe I'm saying that – a wizard."

Arthur felt the corner of his lip twitch at the idea. Merlin the Wizard. It was such a strange notion. Whatever had happened to Merlin the Idiot Manservant?

"Change isn't all that bad," said Gwaine with a grin. "I'm sure Merlin won't mind letting go of a few of his servant's duties."

Arthur sighed heavily again. "If he lives," he whispered.

It was no use hiding from Gwaine what he had been brooding about for the last few hours.

"I'm sure he'll return," said Gwaine. He pressed a hand on Arthur's shoulder reassuringly. "He's a little tougher than he looks."

Arthur kept shaking his head. "It's the World of the Dead. How many do you know who have actually made it back from that place? Even in legends…"

"Morgause did, with that map that now Merlin has." Gwaine's tone was firm, but Arthur could not help but notice a glimmer of doubt in the tall knight's eyes.

"I don't know much about magic," said Arthur, "but I know that Merlin is not like Morgause. She's not afraid to call upon dark powers to reach her goals, but Merlin…"

He let his voice trail.

"… He wouldn't be able to," said Gwaine, finishing the sentence. "It's not in his nature."

"Exactly," put in Arthur.

They remained silent for a while, looking at the horizon and the fields below. With his keen sight, Arthur sought that bit of stone wall, overlooking the monastery, where he had last seen his friend.

Gwaine seemed to notice something about the way Arthur was staring. "I take it you saw him turn into that bird. Impressive bit of magic, huh?"

Arthur rolled up his eyes. "I wasn't really thinking about the bird," he muttered.

"Then I take it you saw the kiss too," said Gwaine, half smiling.

"Do you really think that this is what it looks like? Love?"

Gwaine's eyes narrowed. "For Merlin, maybe it is. It's her I'm less sure about. She's tasted darkness, and sooner or later she'll want to taste it again, especially now that her memory has come back."

Arthur peered into the knight's face. "Do you think that there's anything that we can do?"

To his surprise, Gwaine threw his head back and burst out laughing. "Arthur Pendragon, King of Hearts!" he cried out. But as soon as he saw Arthur's bewildered face, he became more serious, "Love is not a topic for the Round Table, or the war council. You shouldn't try to put yourself between them. Not unless you have a good reason to."

"Like if she tries to kill him," agreed Arthur with a grin.

"Then you would have a good reason to interfere, Sire," the knight concluded.

"Let's at least keep our eyes opened, shall we?" Arthur said as he was wheeling the knight towards the doorway that would lead them back into the fortress.

Then something caught his attention. A streak of blue, at high speed, on the hillside.

As quick as he could, he raced back to the wall, to see what it was. There was indeed the silhouette of a rider in a blue shimmering cape, galloping on the main road and away from the monastery.

But this wasn't the cape or the outline of a knight.

"Morgana," he whispered.

"Should we pursue her, Sire?" Gwaine asked straight away.

But Merlin's words were echoing in Arthur's mind. "No, I won't stop her. I told Merlin that I wouldn't. But if Morgana has chosen Morgause, there will be consequences."

"Indeed, there will be."

Gwaine's reply was bitter, and Arthur knew that the knight meant every word. So Morgana had made her choice, and it wasn't the one that they were hoping for. All that they could do now was carry on with their plan and rely on Merlin to do his part.

As they were watching Morgana ride out of King Lot's Refuge, leagues away from where they stood, a small hawk was carefully landing on the edge of a black lake. Its waters were dark and still like a mirror. The hawk tumbled awkwardly on the ground and its wings flapped helplessly on the sand. Clearly exhausted, the bird of prey lay motionless for a while, until a pale glimmer began to envelop its whole body. The feathers seemed to stretch and stretch, and soon the powerful talons became feet, the wings became arms and the beady eyes turned from black to blue.

Merlin's entire body gave a violent shiver as he lay on the cold and wet ground. Flying freely had been exhilarating at first, but the trip had been long and wearing. Now he was feeling the full extend of the effort that his transformation had required. His head was pounding and his mind was struggling just to find its bearings again.

He remained seated on the same spot where he had landed for a long time, allowing his senses to fall back into place. At least he hadn't dropped the map. He had kept it tightly trapped in his talons, like a prey. It was now folded on his lap, tamed and harmless. Now that he had set his mind on using it, its protective magic had strangely lifted, as though it had sensed his need for it.

But where was that Boatman…?

As the sun got lower on the horizon, a breeze began to blow around him and the waters of the lake began to stir. The sky darkened and Merlin felt a few drops of rain on his hair. He raised his eyes up, appraising his situation and whether or not he needed to find shelter, but when he looked at the lake again, the outline had changed. The black waters were now covered in a thick fog and the narrow pebble beach had been replaced by a walkway of large stones.

Ignoring the rain, Merlin made his way towards the lake. He wasn't surprised, as his eyes got accustomed to the pale light, to see the ghostly shape of the Boatman slowly emerge from the white veil, standing at the edge of the stone pier.

Yet no matter how well he tried to see, the one thing Merlin needed just wasn't there.

"Where's the boat?" he asked.

The Boatman's old and wrinkled face remained unchanged.

"I want to cross," said Merlin as convincingly as he could.

The rain just kept getting heavier and heavier and the fog was so thick that he could almost touch it.

"You're the Boatman, aren't you?" He tried not to sound too annoyed. "There should be a boat. What am I supposed to do? Do you need payment? I don't have any gold. There's something I'm not doing right, isn't there?"

He was just pacing around nervously and thinking about his options when the ghostly form suddenly lifted a hand. He's pointing at the map, Merlin thought instantly.

"It's not a usual map," he said to the Boatman, handing him the folded piece of parchment. "It brought me here. But I don't know what else to do with it. It's supposed to take me to the person I need to see, I think…"

He had barely finished his sentence when all of a sudden the Boatman unfolded the map, humming softly to himself as he did. After a few minutes, he lifted his wrinkled hand and pointed onwards in the general direction of the lake.

"I don't get it," said Merlin. "There's no boat. How am I supposed to…?"

But then he saw something that made him gasp. The walkway of stone that had been only a man's length before had stretched all the way across the lake. It was more than a path; it was a bridge. It rose above the black water and seemed to disappear into the white fog.

Merlin nodded to the Boatman. "Who will I meet?"

But his question remained unanswered. There was no escaping it; he had to cross that bridge.

Slowly, he began to ascend. Each step was taking him into the thicker fog and further away from the world that he knew. He tried not to think about whether or not he was going to return. It was his quest, after all. He had chosen this. It was his destiny to make the world of Albion possible, and if this was the only way, then he was glad to do it.

He walked on the bridge of stone for hours it seemed, until he could no longer see the water below or the sky above. Even the rain had stopped, or he had passed beyond it.

Just when he was thinking that his feet needed to rest, suddenly he stepped into a different type of ground. It was no longer stone, but grass. He had come at the other side of the bridge. The white fog was no longer as thick, but now it was moving with shadows and shapes. Soon he would be seeing the person that he was supposed to meet.

He felt the presence before he even saw him. His heart gave a jolt at the idea that they were going to face each other again.

That deep voice, he had never forgotten it…

"Hullo, son."