Merlin contends with his surging magic and Emrys prophecy expectations while racing to collect his mother. Hunith prepares to depart her lifelong home for Camelot's unknowns.
Chapter 13 Between Two Worlds
Merlin had run out of time to travel to Ealdor and back by conventional means – he had only a few days before Gwen's coronation now – his time consumed by magic training, court protocols studies, meetings, and dignitary audiences. Mounted on his mare Chestnut, he galloped out Camelot's southern gate and rode hard towards the Forest of Ascetir, another horse trailing for his mother.
Magic lessons had accelerated swiftly, his powers expanding exponentially thanks to Galahad – unlocking staggering new depths of power within him – raw might that left him exhilarated yet terrified of his deepening potential. He was still coming to grasp that he might truly be the greatest sorcerer ever known. He chuckled nervously – the silliness of the thought.
And Emrys – he struggled to process the weight of his long-hidden identity soon being revealed to all. As Magic Incarnate, prophesied to unite all peoples and usher the golden age, could he truly live up to such lofty legends? The very foundations of Albion now rested on his shoulders. His grin faded, the silly notion of greatness not seeming so trivial.
He heard the gurgle of the stream before he saw the bend at the edge of the forest. It'd taken him almost half a day to reach it, sooner than normal with the stamina spell he'd cast on the horses. He guided Chestnut through thick brush past it. Dismounting in the tree line just before the Ridge of Ascetir, he tethered both horses. He would teleport them too, but two near consecutive teleportation experiences – even with the instant journey of the white magic spell – could spook them and take too much time to settle and control them. The enchantment may even be unsettling for his mother.
Merlin breathed deeply, calming his racing pulse. A gentle breeze danced through emerald boughs overhead, sunlight dappling the ferns underfoot. Birds trilled a tranquil melody and the very air seemed imbued with earthy Spring – promising boundless rebirth after gentle rains.
In this haven between shadows and light, Merlin felt the currents of destiny stirring, a force as inevitable as the turning seasons. And within him, magic smoldered. No longer a flickering candle – his power had erupted into a blazing torch, razing old doubts. He was no mere servant now but guardian of Albion's very foundations.
"Bedyrne ús, Ridge of Ascetir! Astýre ús þanonweard!"
Air swirled around him, cool and furious. White vapors enveloped his body, obscuring the forest around him and whisked his essence into the aether, depositing him on uneven footing. He wobbled before finding his balance and then looked around, stunned. He was on the topmost peak of the ridge's range, snow still covering its ground, clung to tree limbs, and a cold biting in the air. He hummed, thinned his lips as he brushed fallen flakes from his shoulder.
"You've got to work on your precision, Merlin," he chuckled again. Guardian indeed.
He straightened his tunic. "Bedyrne ús, Pass of Ascetir! Astýre ús þanonweard!"
Hunith didn't have many possessions to pack for her journey: some clothes, a few other personal items, her Bible, and a wood carving of a dragon – a small memento hand-crafted by Merlin's father. She pressed it between her breasts, her love for Balinor still fresh within her heart – his death, still raw within her soul. She kissed it, then gently added it to the other items in the satchel and strapped it across her shoulder. Everything else, she left behind.
After saying good bye to life-time friends, she watched for Merlin's approach from the west, pacing in the afternoon sun near the wooden gate. Occasionally, she glanced behind her, imprinting her village in her mind. Her childhood, meeting, caring for, and then loving Balinor; raising Merlin – wonderful memories that tinged her with melancholy.
When she spotted her son in the distance, she walked through the worn wooden gate, running a hand over it, feeling it for perhaps the last time. She closed her eyes, inhaled, and strode toward Merlin, the familiar sounds of the farming community fading in the background.
She looked behind her once more, gazed one more time at all she'd known. Her friend Gladys was gently waving. They'd spent many hours in each other's homes, in the fields, the gardens, at the well conversing about this or that. Tiny Ealdor, home for forty-two years, she doubted she'll ever see it again. Tears flowed as she waved back. Looking ahead, she continued toward her son – almost there.
They embraced when they came together and Merlin relieved her of the satchel.
"That's all?" he asked, eyes bright and curious – her sweet boy always.
"That's all that matters," she replied softly.
He studied her closely, his expression turning into concern. He took her hand, squeezed it. "Mother, are you all right? Are you sure about this?"
She took only a moment to contemplate. "I'm leaving behind all that I've ever known: a simple life, hard at times, but peaceful. Everything's changing." She placed her other hand over his, a sad smile on her lips. "The world is changing, and I want to be there – with you – when it does, if the Lord is willing."
When Merlin hugged her, the sorrow in her heart lessened and she tightened her embrace. After many years apart from him, she was joyful to finally be reunited and content to spend the last of her days with him.
They began their journey west, and she noticed his unusual silence. New changes were surely afoot – yet distress lined his face, eyes reddened as if from recent tears. Usually so talkative, something heavy weighed upon him.
"Merlin, what's wrong?" she asked.
"I'm sorry, mother," he said. "I don't mean to ignore you. Great change has come to Camelot and for me and I promise to tell you all about them. But I keep thinking of Gaius. He's leaving Camelot."
"Oh my. Just when I'm arriving, and I have missed him so. Why does he leave now?"
"Arthur won't allow his beloved to return to Camelot, so he's traveling to Deira where she's settled – after Gwen's coronation. Her name is Alice."
She searched her memory, echoes from the past becoming clearer. "Alice? I remember her from long ago, how fond they were of each other. He almost married her, but the Purge kept them apart." Having loved and lost Balinor, she truly understood the need for companionship. For caring for someone so deeply that you'd leave everything for them. "I'm happy for him. He deserves to be loved as does Alice."
"I know," Merlin said softly, sadly. "It breaks my heart and I'll miss him. It won't be the same without him."
Silence came between them again and they walked until they were in the ridge pass. He wrapped an arm around her waist. His eyes now glistened with a joy and confidence that she always loved seeing.
"Hold tight, mother. It may be a little jarring, but it'll be okay. The effects of the teleportation spell only last a second. And don't be frightened of the wind and vapors – they're just added extra." She looked at him curiously. He shrugged and chuckled self-consciously. "I … like the effects."
She sighed with a smile. She'd never experienced Merlin's magic like this – only witnessing smaller feats of his talent as he grew, but as a man with more knowledge and training, she was eager to see how powerful he'd become.
"Bedyrne ús, Chestnut! Astýre ús þanonweard!"
Hunith let out a startled gasp, clinging to him.
He smiled when they materialized a few meters from for his tethered horse, starting the mare, but not spooking her. The other horse had come loose and grazed closer to the stream.
"Oh my," gasped Hunith, breathless and disoriented, still clutching to her son.
"Much better," Merlin said with a pleased smile.
"Good Lord, I pray that's the last time we'll have to do that, Merlin."
"Yes, mother," he replied in a muted, flattened tone as he helped her upon her mount and then climbed his own.
Turning west toward Camelot she would see the great spires soon – harbingers of a new beginning. She glanced once at the road that led to tiny, peaceful Ealdor. Facing ahead, she closed her eyes – captured between two worlds.
Beside her, Merlin gave her hand a gentle, comforting squeeze. Though he watched the road ahead, she knew his thoughts too were cast back toward Ealdor one last time. But his presence was a balm – she was not alone in this crossing between old and new. Wherever their path took them now, they would walk it side by side.