Merlin met Gillie in the halls a few times after that. He navigated to a side corridor or a gap each time, keeping away to avoid the guards.
Maybe Court Sorcerer wasn't that much fun.
He never saw Gillie get a break.
Merlin took to feeding the dragon.
The Dragon took to scaling the "Dragon's Tower," (Where Merlin lived now,) and blowing fire down the chimney floo.
Merlin stepped away and pulled a lever to close a metal sheet over the gap. This spat fire back into Aithusa's face.
Merlin saw how the thick glass was so melted now. A fully grown adult dragon could easily have done it.
Throwing stones to escape the window himself, something Merlin did first night, proved the glass enchanted. Objects bounced with an odd sound.
Rual never stopped his spying.
And there was a spy – Merlin thought a mercenary with a hard grin and a nasty look about him who balanced in a rain cloak and carried a crossbow in the archways above the dragon run at odd times.
Merlin asked Meilyr – the knight, who it was.
Meilyr said it was the last queen's personal assassin. He stepped in as guard when the guards would fail. "I expect he's trying to prove his worth after the queen's death. You'd better stay clear."
Merlin eyed the page reporting Arthur was in Avalon. He traced the broken gold seal with a finger. Part of his plan was to lie low, but how much did that mean if he were to protect Arthur?
"Come here." The princess trotted with guards behind her. Rual was visible in her wake.
Merlin pulled the door open to her and blinked. "Swear loyalty to me," she commanded.
Merlin frowned.
"Swear loyalty to me tonight, and I shall take you on the caravan to Avalon, as part of my acceptance by the Gods as queen. You may see your king then as proof he lies protected."
Merlin swallowed. "I'll do it now then." He glanced at Rual and followed them to the open corridor of the Dragon Run.
She drew a sword presented by a page boy with a dramatic sweep, looked up the shine of its blade, and then she presented it with a few words – magic ones. It caught a blaze of fire so quickly that many shifted in their stance or backed away. "Do you swear yourself this day forward in protecting me, myself, my kingdom, holding none before the natural world and its loyal kingdom of Avalon?"
Merlin paused, thinking only of reaching Arthur, and hoping deeply he'd protect the realm of magic.
When she uttered magical words the second time, he realized he'd been drawn into an unbreakable circumstance. He'd regret breaking this vow; if it didn't kill him. But, deny it now, he'd never reach Avalon. He glanced at Rual, who had a sword drawn and waited to kill him.
"Ic geswerian holdræden a' Avalonia, a' Gwendoelnea de Glas, a' gecynd."
Merlin repeated.
Together, their eyes flashed so briefly Merlin could have mistaken it.
She wouldn't have cared of the flash in his eyes because the spell moved on her magic.
"Get your things ready. The caravan is in the morning." She smiled.
The servants had dressed the passage and the great hall in long ribbons. They were beautiful but slightly wrinkled, showing they'd been used many times before and were probably very old.
It didn't stop a large gathering from the towns. The people passed under the archway and gathered on the fields where the pyre gathering had been.
Gillie stayed close to her in the procession.
She said, "Is it normal that I have to sit on this thing? Shouldn't I have a horse?"
"Horses are not traditional," said Cardel, the round-bodied magistrate who was head of the court.
There was a large platform to be carried by two sets of hands. Gillie visibly got a look at one of those sets of hands, a knight Merlin didn't recognize in the face. Gillie met Merlin's eyes and stepped in front of the queen. "It's all tradition," he said. "There's a new queen now. She can make her own traditions; if she wants a horse…" he suggested.
"Yes," said Cardel, picking up on the urgency. "We'll get a horse then."
The young man that had attempted to clean Merlin's room stepped forward from the stables with a white horse. "Sorry, Majesty. The saddle is a bit dusty."
It was tattered and worn on every inch.
Gillie lifted it.
Merlin let his power go from behind his eyes as Gillie touched the saddle. It luminesced white and danced a gold thread in the timid lighting.
The crowd gasped.
She smiled at Gillie with a fluttering blink.
Gillie played along, smiled, then scowled at Merlin. Merlin looked down and cleared his throat.
Merlin kept on their heels as the procession moved to the woods. He looked behind as they moved from one terrain to another through a stone archway. There was a pulling sensation. The air became cold and moist and the forest was suddenly dark and marked by the sound of water. Merlin drew his hood over his face.
The unfamiliar knight's face flashed red in the eyes. Merlin drew close.
The knight's horse conveniently stumbled on a rock and twisted its reins around a branch before the procession moved through the next archway.
Gillie's horse slowed, and he passed alongside Merlin. "Are you picking them off?" he hissed.
"Only the suspicious ones," smiled Merlin. His face fell to a scowl, "do you notice any more?"
Gillie chewed his lip. "Yeah," he slickly pointed, hiding his hand beneath his cloak so only Merlin noticed, "Those three up there. They're trying to get close and I haven't seen them before today. I think they wear conduit glamours; look at the matching necklaces."
"None of the other knights wear them," agreed Merlin.
"Alright. One more archway. I'll lose them."
They were ahead of them in the procession. But that didn't stop the horses from getting distracted. Merlin drew away their reigns and the horses turned round. The riders complained.
"What's going on there!" said Rual. The horses sped into a run and backpaced into the open archway most of the procession had come through.
Gillie cleared his throat. "They're wearing glamours; he explained. Best have no one in the procession we don't trust."
"Glamours?" said Rual.
"Disguises," explained Merlin. He tossed one of the broken necklaces topped with a lump of white crystal.
The knight examined it.
He swallowed. "Well done then. If you see any more; point them out before we reach the lake. I'll run them through for you." He pulled close alongside the queen and whispered to her urgently, pointing back to explain what happened.
"I think they like you," said Merlin to Gillie.
"They like you," Gillie said. "I don't need your help."
"I don't say you do."
"You think it. And that's because you don't move like a sorcerer; you act like a mercenary. Leave them alone and call the knights. They're not helpless."
Merlin chewed his lip.
The air changed. They burst onto the scene of the lake, not unlike what Merlin had been near as Arthur last breathed. He saw the familiar tower in the distance, only this time it was different. There was a long wooden path, set for single persons on foot.
They left their horses behind. As they moved, magic became useless. The queen's trusted magic lantern floated to her heels and dimmed out of light.
Merlin shuddered in the fog, then kept as close as he could. Just before they reached the centre isle a burst of yellow light and colour surrounded them, washing them in an eerily still summer. The isle was spotted with apple trees in full ripeness.
The procession moved over a long, thin path. The knights carefully brought the girl to stand knee-deep in the water. Given her ceremonial clothing was a long dress nearing a forearm length past her feet, she lifted it in a scrunched ball.
"Here I stand, with a gathering of my finest allies, to present myself to the Goddess, and take my place as protector and healer of the Blessed Isle."
She repeated after Cardell, who held a long scroll with a shining gold back. They took her cloak, letting her pace further into the water. The ceremony seemed to take ages. Merlin bowed his head.
In the distance, he saw a flicker of red and noticed none in the procession looked behind enough to notice him. He slipped away through the tall grass and to a white table of stone. He scrambled toward it.
There was no wind. He paced slowly up to the table and looked down on the face of Arthur. Blond Haired, full in the face and peaceful as sleeping. He looked exactly as he had in the moment he sent him to drift on the lake. The gold emblem of the dragon on the crimson cape and the whole of his chain mail armour.
Merlin's eyes settled on the fatal wound.
Merlin lowered his head and barely noticed his sharp intake. His lungs burned. He reached for Arthur's hand with trembling fingers.
"I'm so sorry. Please. I want you to wait for me. I'll make the world right again. I promise. I swear. Even if I have to follow you to the grave."
A melancholic song reverberated over the motionless landscape. Merlin's face washed with light as he turned to see the procession shrink away. Merlin reached up around his throat and removed his neckerchief, a bit of fabric he used to wipe his face built of the scraps of one of Arthur's old shirts.
The shine of metal struck brightly through the wispy trees. Merlin squinted. There was a shriek. A scream. "Take her and go!" a knight yelled. The clanging metal got Merlin running faster, and he collided with a wall of conjured fog.
"Þrosm tohweorfe!"
The fog didn't move, falling still as if suspended in the air.
Merlin pushed through the fog. It broke just as he saw Raul – the queens closest confidant and knight rounding on her with sword drawn. She shuffled backwards, dragging her long dress in the mud, and tried to push herself into the water. Merlin pulled a sword from a fallen knight and ran to help, wincing at the suck from the knight's chest.
He came from behind and swung at Rual, instinctively pulling back as he rounded. Merlin put his hand up, thinking to push him back. But he didn't. There was still no magic.
Rual's eyes were red. The jaw was oddly jutted to the side. When the red of the iris faded, Merlin saw the eye was clouded, like the white film in the eyes of a dead body. The knight wasn't just possessed by magic, he was animated by it.
Merlin dropped the sword into the water of the lake, hoping it was enchanted. Rual pushed forward so close Merlin felt the air off the sihde knight's sword. Merlin struck first, either by luck or habit-gained skill, and the blade landed. It stuck into the knight's chest. The body quickly dissolved. Merlin threw it back in horror as the flesh fizzled away from the bones, decomposing and dropping into bones.
Merlin stumbled backwards. He dropped into cold water. And as he did, the sky went black into night. Merlin's feet dropped into deep water. He thrashed in the tangle of scaly pond grass. The shock of the water knocked him breathless, and he slipped under.
For a moment, Merlin couldn't move or breathe. He sensed someone was around, but the feeling of being helpless and alone flooded faster than the water. He sank as a stone and the feel of the rough grass slipped away.
Merlin thought he would die here. Then a rough hand pulled him up, sputtering and sopping over the side of a long wooden boat.
"Alright there?" said a man's voice.
Merlin coughed until he croaked out a burp of water.
The man patted Merlin's back.
"The others," Merlin begged. "I was with others. Did you see anyone else?"
The man unclasped the heavy cloak around Merlin's shoulders and freed him to take a full breath. "Not except my daughter. Are you alright?"
A feminine voice sounded off in the night cold. "It's alright. He's the Dragonlord." It was Gwendolen.
Merlin mostly saw the reflection of that white gown, but it was her. "Did you see Gillie?"
"No."
Merlin frowned.
"He wasn't among the fallen," said Gwendolen sheepishly. "And those traitors met more knights. All Gillie and other survivors had to do was make the archways, and they'd be safe."
Merlin clutched the side and retched up water.
Somewhere between Avalon and the outer side of the lake, the reeds turned to powdery snow. The boat beached itself with a crunch. Merlin followed the man, who lifted Gwendolen on his shoulders.
Merlin's entire body stung for the walk to a large wood castle nestled in a round of thick pine trees. "Where are we?" he chattered.
They didn't answer.
Merlin came to a stop just outside the warm stretch of gold light at the doors.
The man turned around and pushed Gwendolen through the doors. "Alright there. So, the rules are simple. Only a relation to the regents of Avalon, a slave, an apprentice or a sworn marital arrangement can cross the threshold, and once done that can't be taken back."
"I've sworn myself a servant," said Merlin.
"That's not good enough today," said the man with a stretched smile. It died, and he said, "You don't have magic, and you're not the station to marry, so you can either mark yourself a slave or freeze."
"That's - uh," Merlin choked a laugh, "unreasonable."
"It's not about fair. It's a protective formality, don't make me have to send you away." The man's arms clapped to his sides.
Merlin trembled and looked around. He could survive a night because he had magic, but he couldn't get back where he came from, and he would still be caught in the morning. He didn't feel like explaining the crimes of the sorcerer Emrys to these people, not even on pain of death, so he stepped forward.
"Go on then. On your own power."
Merlin met the other man's outstretched arms and let him steady him. He stepped over the threshold, and then just as quickly as he met the warmth inside, he was overcome with grief and wrapped snuggly with a large blanket.
The man lifted Merlin as his knees gave way. "Oh, yes," he hushed. "One of those. My name is Breachan, I'm the last queen's brother," he listed, "I'm this one's father." He held a hand out for Gwendolen. "Take this and change those clothes. We'll need blankets."
Breachan scooped Merlin off his feet and carried him up the stairs. There, there was a deep washtub and linens. And a gap in the ceiling where snow fed a continuous flow of water.
Merlin stumbled back and Breachan squeezed a fist over the water. The flash of the other man's eyes glowed as he turned away.
It took an age after the door was closed for Merlin to settle into the water. He'd traversed in the same clothes he'd worn when he left Arthur by that lake, and now he was sure he would leave every remnant of his days in Camelot behind as well.
If Arthur did return, would he recognize him?
"I don't want you to change…"
Merlin scooped the warm water into his face until it hurt less from the cold. He sniffed and turned, finally letting his shirt off. It drifted to the bottom slowly.
When he returned downstairs, he wore the clothes left to him, which were a loose white shirt and oddly soft trousers. They weren't his at all, but they were finely made and emanated wealth and ceremony. He paused on the stair.
Breachan looked up. "Come on. Here, by the fire."
Gwendolen had already taken the stones and ornaments from her tangled hair and dressed in a man's underclothes, white and draped in a fur blanket, she wore similar trousers to him and looked so informal he tripped on the stairs. She ushered him to sit beside her, something Breachan paused on his feet to observe.
"Did you see him?"
"Yeah," he whispered.
"Are you well?"
"I don't know. I just want to sleep. I –" Merlin looked around the room cautiously.
Breachan gave him a plate. Bread and butter and very salty broth were on it, and there was dried meat wrapped in parchment paper between them.
"We won't hurt you," said Breachan. Breachan must have noted Merlin flinched at the magic.
Merlin stuttered, "I know."
Gwendolen leaned forward and flicked her fingers idly at the dying flame. It spat parks of a bright magenta and blue, and when they sank it smoothed into a flame again.