Chapter 41 [Hall of Heroes]
Merlin followed Mithian back down musty granite stairs once more. Reverence weighed on him. Duty edged him on. Tradition crackled all about them. "I feel like there's someone else here."
"Perhaps." She stopped and turned back toward him. "Father and I have room for a few loyal spirits if that is their choice, Merlin. We would not deny the goddess or Cailleach their due however." She descended the last four stairs. "Still…" Her eyebrow raised. Hairs raised on her arms and neck. Static charged the air about herself. "Maybe it is this new sensitivity? I do feel something."
"That is what I mean." Nerves and Caution slowed his pace. "I do not wish to disturb them. Perhaps we can go in. Your father and the others are waiting. My father needs to be honored." He surveyed the empty passage in both directions…
…empty (or supposedly empty)…
She turned the key in the door's lock. Her hand pushed the ancient door open. "Gawain and you honored your parents last night, Merlin. I would think they would appreciate that." She lit her torch from the wall torch. "Follow me." She entered the Hall at a steady pace.
Chill dimpled his skin. Uneasy vibe ran up and down his spine. Breeze kicked up about the passage. "Mithian!" He rushed into the chamber. Once more, he gazed upon historical artifacts and weapons. Rust marred ancient chain mail. Blades bore Battle's bruises and knicks. Giant tapestry depicted Etranburg's battle. In the upper right corner, his eyes spied Balinor and Kilgarrah….
…Tradition, eat your heart out…
Consideration reeled him in closer and closer still. He spied Malodius in War's midst. Rodor had pointed himself out on the previous night. Sir Robert stood out amidst Cawdorian red and Nemethian emerald. It happened. It really happened.
And you doubted me? Wait. Of course you did! I have stopped being surprised by such things, Merlin, Kilgarrah jabbed.
She released a pointed snort. A rather naughty smirk spread across her face. "And here I thought you were *so* wise, Merlin."
His eyes rolled. "Not helping."
"Oh? Was I trying to help? After all, you *are* Emrys of the Druids or something to that effect." Snicker echoed off of the granite walls. Her eyes twinkled into his. She ran her hand over Balinor's chain mail. Rust and knicks marred its links. Surcoat's edges frayed. Age and Exposure had faded its once-vibrant hues.
She is going to be good for you, Merlin. Imagine no more chamber pots for the Pendragon or excuses? Whatever will you do? Kilgarrah's chortles and snickers stung in Merlin's ears. You have the proof in front of you. Now Gaius cannot deny it. This is what you were born to do, Merlin. Your magic is but one part of you. You are a Dragon Rider. You will be a Prince as well. Balinor would be proud.
Indeed, Kilgarrah. Balinor appeared beside his former chain mail. Cobalt aura encapsulated his washed-out astral image. "Hello once more, Merlin." He bowed to her. "Princess Mithian."
"Sir Balinor?" Questions bubbled up inside of her mind. She nodded toward the spirit. "Surely you would have passed through the Veil? As I said earlier, I would not deny you your reward."
"I know." A slight smile broke through Balinor's grim expression. "Kilgarrah said it very well to Merlin. Thank you for opening all of this to him. Thank your father for remembering your grandfather's and his promise. I wanted to bring Merlin's mother here. Circumstances prevented me from doing so."
"We know, Father. It's all right." Merlin stepped closer to his father's spirit. "Mother will be taken care of now. I can keep her warm and comfortable." He rubbed the back of his neck. "That is all I have wanted even when I was in Camelot."
"Now, you can do that." Balinor pointed to his armor and surcoat. "Put it on. King Rodor is waiting for you both. I wish to see for myself." He floated back from his former equipment.
Merlin lifted the chain mail and surcoat from their place. Nerves and Inadequacy unsteadied him. Purpose, however, strengthened his resolve. Her belief in him warmed his heart. Strength buoyed Confidence. He pulled on the chain mail and surcoat over his former servile garb. He secured the belt in place. Chain mail sagged. Surcoat's inadequacies nagged at him. "I think I can do this one better." He took a deep breath. "Thoir air ais!" Canary flashed in his eyes.
Spell's energies crackled about Merlin's form. They mended the twisted links. Rust disappeared. Frayed edges disappeared. Colors deepened. Chain mail and surcoat resized themselves to his needs.
Approval prompted him to nod. "That looks better. Hope the King likes it."
Pride and Awe shook her head. Granted, she knew of his magic. Still, to watch his spell turn back years and recall Past's glory astounded her. "The King will approve. I might think it's passable." Teasing quirked an eyebrow and spread the smirk back across her face (yet again). She held up Balinor's old sword.
"Passable?" Merlin stared at her.
"Aye." Sauciness flavored her response. "Passable, my Prince." She handed the sword hilt first to him. "You will need this."
"Thanks." Merlin accepted the sword. He considered its glinting surface against the torchlight. Then he slid it back into its scabbard. "Thank you, Father."
Balinor nodded to him. "Nay, Merlin. Thank you. Give my love to your mother…." He melted away into Shadow's depths.
"Unbelievable." Merlin sucked in a deep breath. His mind spun from the encounter. Affirmation rode on Balinor's spectral form. Sorcery restored his mantle and garb. Belief flowed from his Princess.
"One step at a time, my Prince. We will do this together." She guided him from the Hall and back out into the passage.
Malodius harunged a greeting. He bowed to them. Then, he started up the stairs.
"Our guide?" Merlin scratched his head.
A giggle escaped from Mithian's lips. "Oh? You need another?" She rubbed his arm. "Come on. The King and our friends await."
The King and our friends! That just feels right. Merlin followed their lead up the staircase and the plaza outside.
Preparations and mindset are key after all….