Word from the author: I can't believe how long it's been since I wrote the previous chapters. I hope what follows does the story justice.

Please tell me what you think.

Enjoy.

…..

Chapter 33: The Veil

He was loosing her fast. She was slipping, slipping…

And then, out of nowhere, Arthur caught her. Merlin saw him through a curtain of icy rain. The young king caught her arm, and then her dress. He pulled and pulled until she was safely on the right side of the rampart.

And then something fell on Merlin's lap. The small crystal had detached itself from the staff. It was no longer transparent or glowing with a pale green light: it was as black as a lump of coal.

Merlin's glance caught LeNoir's eyes and they were empty. The dragonlord's soul had finally released Borden's body, and the other man had not survived. It was all over for the dragonlord-shade, and for Gaius's old apprentice as well.

Weak and shaking, Merlin struggled to get away from the body and closer to Morgana. His leg was hurting badly and it was leaving a trail of blood behind him. But none of that mattered: there was still one important task to do.

"I don't think she's breathing," Arthur said as soon as Merlin was close enough.

Arthur had cradled Morgana's head on his lap and he was stroking her hair as though she was a small child who needed to be comforted.

Her chest was no longer moving. No, she can't be dead, Merlin thought desperately.

Leaning forward, he began to use all of the healing spells that he knew. He was weak, yes, but it didn't matter because he would gladly give up his life to save hers. Spell after spell, his words seemed to have no effect. The sickness was deep, too deep. She was beyond his reach.

Like Freya. Like his father. Like Will. They had been stolen from him. It was as though he was fighting against another power, a power as great as he was. What is fate? What is his curse to watch all of the people he ever loved die? He couldn't accept that.

"No," he whispered. "Not again. I will not loose again."

The roaring above his head made him look up. The dragon-shades had lost their master. He was their dragonlord now. He felt a strange pity for those monsters who had killed so many of Arthur's people. Like LeNoir, they did not belong to this world. It was time for them to go back.

Wiping his tears with the back of his hand, and grabbing the staff with the other, he struggled to get up under Arthur's sympathetic look.

"She's gone, Merlin," the king said.

Without any reply, Merlin took a few steps closer to the rampart. Holding the staff up, he called to the sky, to the spirits of the Otherworld. There was a sudden thunder and the icy rain turned to snow. Merlin's own breathing seemed to slow down as did the world around him.

"Brittanicus!" he yelled.

There was a clash of lightening, not white but green, high above his head. Now he knew why Taliesin has given him the staff: it was doing all the work for him. It was old magic, and powerful too. This is what being a wizard meant: he could talk to the spirits if he chose to. Just like when he had spoken to the Lord of the Sea, not so long ago, about a map and a dragon egg.

The grey figure, with the white hair and long beard, suddenly appeared before him. Lord Brannan Brittanicus, of the Council of Dragonlords, had chosen to appear not as a man but as a spirit. His face, as big as a thundercloud, was made of green light and white mist. When he spoke, his voice echoed throughout the kingdom.

"Do you seek to challenge me? We told you what needed to be done. The Great Dragon must be killed. Now you have upset the balance of the world. How dare you defy the word of the Council of Dragonlords! How dare you use that wizard's tool against me?"

Merlin twisted the staff in his hands, examining it with newfound wonder. You understand the laws of nature and of the elements, had been Taliesin's words.

"You are right, the balance must be restored," replied Merlin, "But it will have to be on my terms."

The old Brittanicus let out a cruel laugh that shook the wall of Camelot on which Merlin stood. "You already have your orders from the Council, said the giant. "To enter the World of the Dead demands a blood sacrifice and the sacrifice I ask is Kilgharrah."

Merlin took a step forward, placing the staff in front of him to help him stand straight. "It seems, Lord Brittanicus," he said forcefully, "that I do not need your help to open the veil between worlds."

Another clash of thunder.

"Fool of a wizard! You are playing with forces you do not understand. What is it that you want?"

Merlin was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, "A deal. An exchange. You return Morgana to the world of the living, and I send the dragon-shades back to the World of the Dead."

The roar that followed was deafening.

"We are spirits! We do not make deals with small wizards!"

"I am not a small wizard! I am Emrys!" cried out Merlin, allowing his anger to show. "You will listen to me! I will send these dragons' souls back to the Otherworld, and you will give me Lady Morgana."

There was a hint of surprise on the giant face. "I do not swap souls, Emrys. To close the veil demands a blood sacrifice."

Merlin took a step forward, taking his time to form his thought. There was only one path for him now. He had accepted his destiny as Emrys, the greatest wizard that ever lived, and he wasn't going to be bullied by any spirits, even if he was his great-great-grand-father.

He took the lump of coal that had once been the Crystal of Fyr and lifted it so that the dragonlord could see it well. "Now I will make myself clear," he said. "You will give me back Morgana, or I will find a way to fit many more souls into this tiny crystal, and neither you nor the Council of Dragonlords will ever see those dragons again."

"You are a dragonlord!" said Brittanicus, outraged.

"I am a wizard," Merlin replied, "and I vow here and now never to take a life again."

There was a short silence, broken only was the high-pitched shrieks of the dragons. And then the giant Brittanicus finally spoke.

"I will not make this deal twice, Emrys. Mark my words. There will not be a next time. So I suggest you chose carefully. There are others, beside the lady Morgana, whom we could give back to you."

New figures suddenly appeared in the sky. His father. His mother. Arthur. Gwen. And… small silhouettes – children – that he didn't know.

"It doesn't have to be now," said the giant spirit. "You only have to name a person."

This is a trick, Merlin thought instantly. He allowed himself to look at Arthur, who was behind him, still cradling Morgana's lifeless body. But the young king was only shaking his head. The understanding between them did not need to be spoken out loud.

He turned his attention back to the spirit of the dragonlord. "Morgana Pendragon," he said for all to hear.

Lightning struck the sky. "So be it," cried out the voice of the giant. "She is yours. Remember you choice and your vow."

Merlin nodded, knowing full well that a deal had been made, a vow of the unbreakable kind.

Reaching into the dragonlord part of his soul, he summoned the sacred gift that would allow him to command the dragon-shades.

"You are free," he told them in the Old Tongue. "Go back to the Otherworld and be at peace."

The staff was vibrating in his hand and he knew that the veil would soon be closing. The face in the cloud melted away to reveal a dark patch in the sky. One by one, the dragon-shades flew towards the vortex, disappearing as the opening grew smaller. The icy rain, the thunderclouds, the green light; all of it was slowly dissolving to reveal a grey sky underneath.

And in that infinite moment when the veil was about to close, Merlin felt a tiny breath, a warm breeze fly past him.

It was Morgana's soul.

Now she was alive, and she was smiling at him.

And it was the happiest day of his life.