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“Now, Arthur?”
“Finish it.”
Merlin stretched out his left hand towards the creature and incanted. Arthur was momentarily motionless at the sight of Merlin’s eyes like molten gold in the darkness and his voice, almost inhuman, chanting the words of power. And then from his palm, an orb rose. Arthur’s breath caught at the sight of it. Even after all these years, he could not fail to recognize it. Someone knew I was in trouble and sent a light to guide the way. Someone certainly had been watching over him. He’d felt it for years. Now he knew his name. As if there had ever been any doubt.
The orb exploded into a burst of pure daylight that illuminated the hall. It caught on Excalibur, on Merlin’s dagger and vambraces. It warmed Arthur’s face with the heat of a summer day. Merlin risked a glance at Arthur and his hair was shining like gold, his smile as jubilant as a child’s. Arthur caught his look and held it, something indefinable but joyous in his eyes. And then as one they closed on the creature.
Both blades flashed and tore in a dance of death. It wasn’t clear which struck the killing blow, but there was a sudden shockwave and freezing blast that knocked both men to the ground. The shadow itself seemed to explode into infinite fragments of darkness.
The light from Merlin’s hand went out as his head cracked against the stone floor. There he lay motionless, the dagger falling from his lifeless hand.
***
This must, certainly, be what dying felt like.
Merlin had seen others die. Knights. Commoners. Druids. He had even used his own magic in ways that had led to the demise of many people and creatures of all descriptions, some misguided, some truly evil. Only ever in service of Camelot, of Albion, in service to those he loved. In service to Arthur. He had always wondered, in the back of his mind, about the moment of their passing, a mixture of sadness and regret, and admittedly sometimes desperate triumph after some struggle. He had always wondered what it would feel like to die.
And now, apparently, he had finally arrived at his opportunity to find out for himself.
He had cast the orb, one like that he had used to guide Arthur so long ago, but now filled with what he could only grasp as a kind of luminous force, a light that had weight and presence as well as the ability to brighten a space. For all his talents and his supposed destiny, he was, after all, still learning what was possible, what he could do, and, as Gaius would probably say, how to properly control it all.
It felt as though every ounce of his strength and awareness left him as soon as the frobana shattered under he and Arthur’s blows. And the deepest, cruelest sort of cold throughout his body. No, it was more profound, more all-encompassing than any physical feeling. The cold was inside of him. Inside his body, inside his senses, in his mind. The cold was the world and he was frost blowing in the wind on the coldest, darkest winter’s night.
Just as consciousness had nearly completely left him, he took one last moment to remember Arthur’s face, a warmth in the heart if no other warmth was to be had at the end of his days, and to silently thank the Triple Goddess for her help. She had, as she had promised, helped him to save Arthur, and to save the greater kingdom that he would someday build. That was enough for Merlin, even if, as Arthur would say, he had somehow bungled it like a idiot.
“TRUST YOUR BOND, EMRYS,” whispered the space around consciousness.
Before he could gather his senses well enough to ponder what exactly that meant, or where it had come from, he found himself standing on… what? It felt like cold, hard stone. Looked like it, too. All around him shadows swirled, of the deepest blue and black. A vast plain stretched out around him in every direction. There was real wind, now, and it ripped at his clothes and bit frigidly even through the leathers Arthur had loaned him for their battle. In the sky above, at the top of this world, a light swirled and writhed, both deep blue and dim and yet blinding to look upon all at once. In its center he saw Arthur’s face, the faces of the druids. It was all very confusing and didn’t seem to follow any particular order that he could easily follow.
And, all around him, stood countless frobanas.
This wasn’t his most disturbing realization, however. One had already gotten him, right? Over the sound of the wind he could hear deep, somehow familiar laughter.
“They still think they can save you, you know,” said a low, resonant, and mocking disembodied voice. “Even now my son abandons his better judgment and his training rather than doing what he knows he must.”
Merlin felt more than a little real fear, now, and shock at having started to puzzle out what was going on, who was behind all of this. And then he felt anger.
“Uther,” he said, a little reassured that he could still speak in this place.
More laughter. “Arthur’s favorite servant,” said the, now deceased, king. “Camelot’s beloved lying sorcerer.”
Merlin looked all around, trying to find the source of the voice, but Uther, or his ghost, was nowhere to be found. Again, Merlin looked at the tear above him in the heavens, or what passed for the heavens in this place. He saw the floor stones of the ballroom in the palace where they had fought the frobana. That was odd.
“Why?!” Merlin shouted over the wind. Although, despite everything he had been through, despite… dying? That wasn’t the foremost question on his mind. Only the first thing to make its way out of his mouth. Typical, Arthur would say. Oh gods, Arthur…
“Why?” screamed Uther, not so much over the wind but as part of it. “You dare ask me why?” The wind began to howl louder and nearly knocked Merlin to his knees. “Because I will not have my son granting his affections to any low-born, let alone a sorcerer. Because I will not have my kingdom given over to magic or to the deviancy of sorcery!”
Merlin should have been very angry, now. He should have been outraged that this weak, failure of a king, of a father, of a person, had still managed to cause this much trouble and heartbreak from beyond the grave. But, in all of his years avoiding Uther’s tantrums and his participations in palace intrigue, magical or otherwise, he had grown accustomed to this attitude from Uther. It felt strangely mundane and familiar. Merlin shook his head and sighed. He was, however, still curious. And if he was still able to speak, still able to talk to this twisted old spirit, he might still be able to find a way to help Arthur and the others. He had to keep Uther talking.
“Yes, yes,” said Merlin, adopting the best mouthy servant tone he could manage, under the circumstances. “I know that you’re a cruel, murderous, nasty old codger who hates everyone and everything. But how did you manage to get that thing to do your bidding in the world of the living? And what are these ones around me for? Surely you don’t need all of them to deal with one low-born warlock?” Merlin hesitated. “And how did you manage to drug the guards, being dead and all?”
Merlin felt Uther’s rage, in the ground, in the wind, and in the bellowing roar that filled his ears. It was so easy to get a rise out of the man, even dead as they both seemed to be.
“These are not for you!” Uther was laughing raucously, now. “I already have what I need from you. Look above, boy. Your body is waking and the creature is using it just as I had planned. And do you think such a creature as that is incapable of using its playthings to achieve its goals? It took one of the castle guard a while ago, before it sought out the two of you, a friend of yours, if I’m not mistaken. Warlock? Barely ever a passable servant. You really are quite the fool, aren’t you, boy? And to think I ever trusted you around my son.”
Merlin assumed that he meant Tobyn, and his heart sank. Then he heard a woman’s voice on the wind, now. “He’s awake!” And then, to Merlin’s horror, he saw Arthur’s horrified visage looking down at him from the sky, and then his own heart sank as he heard his own voice, and yet not at all his own voice, on the wind, saying “Hello, Arthur.”
Uther seemed to take a moment to let him take it all in, likely enjoying Merlin’s anguish, his inability to do anything about what he was seeing in the clouds, in the world of the living he would probably never see again except through this monstrous portal.
“These creatures and I have made a bargain, you see,” Uther continued. “After the one you encountered has used you to return my son to me, here, in this place, and to rid MY kingdom of ALL sorcerers, it will use what was once your magic to widen the portal you see above you. The others will leave this world and enter Camelot, and they will feed upon every person there, as payment for their assistance to me.”
Merlin’s eyes widened. “But… you’re dead, gone. Even so, don’t you still care for Arthur? For your kingdom? They are your people, Uther!”
The ground quaked, and the wind tore at Merlin’s body. Thunder and lightning rolled across the shadowy, towering clouds above. “Arthur has failed in his duty. He has failed completely. Everything I ever taught him was for nothing! Everything I ever gave to him he has squandered! And everyone in Camelot is guilty of treason, for allowing this summit, this congress with magic, to occur! Even in death, I am still a king, boy.”
Merlin looked again at the portal to the living world that swirled above him, saw and heard the creature inside what had once been his body mocking Arthur’s pleas.
Uther, all of the rage in his voice now replaced with a chilled, composed anger, continued, in the voice he had always used while alive to condemn with finality. “I believe the two of you are about to pay for your crimes together. Yes, it’s very appropriate indeed. You, here, will watch him die there, by your own hand, it appears. And when he arrives here, after the frobana takes his body, I will let him watch these rip your commoner’s soul to pieces before his eyes. And that will be only the beginning of his penance, I assure you.”
Merlin stood, shaken by the words, despite his resolve to turn things the other way. And then, as if on cue, he saw, in the sky, Arthur’s figure growing larger, saw the dagger the Triple Goddess had given him rise to meet Arthur’s flesh. He saw Arthur raise Excalibur to deflect the frobana’s lunge, saw his own arm raised and his own hand grasping the blade in mid-swing. He saw his own blood spilled, but it was nothing compared to the look of sorrow in Arthur’s eyes.
“No!” He cried, desperation and anguish in his voice. All of those years hiding his power, his feelings from Arthur. All of his joy at finally being given the opportunity to tell the truth to his friend, to the person he loved most in the world. And all of it was about to be taken away by a monster working his own fingers like a puppet master. Betrayal. So very proper coming from Uther.
And suddenly, in the midst of the deepest despair Merlin had ever known, the wind became silent and the air around him grew warm, like the first warm day of spring after a long winter. Everything was made of the purest brightness. He could not even see his own shape, if, indeed, he still had a shape. And, as before when he had touched the jewel in the storeroom, his fears calmed, his doubts floated away. He felt wonderful, and, in that moment, hated himself for it.
“AND THIS IS THE SECOND STEP, EMRYS.”
Merlin’s voice nearly failed him, but he managed the words “Triple Goddess?”
“GO TO HIM NOW, AND SAVE HIM FROM WHAT HE MUST NOT DO, AND THEN RETURN TO ME HERE. TRUST YOUR BOND, EMRYS, AND YOUR POWER, AND YOUR HEART.”
And, in an instant, the blinding brightness was gone, and Merlin was back in his own body. Somehow he knew that he would only get one chance at this, this second step. He would not waste it. He would do what must be done to save Arthur, to save the kingdom that Uther would see destroyed.
***
“No- you cannot-” Merlin started, and pushed Arthur’s blade away, blood dripping onto the floor between them. “You’ll hate yourself if you do this.”
A flash of blue caught Arthur’s eye- Merlin’s eyes had shifted back for just a second and he could see the panic in Merlin, see him trying to fight.
“Merlin!” Hope bloomed in Arthur’s chest, but he tamped it down, not letting himself feel triumphant until this was all over. Hope was always a wound in the making. But Merlin was still in there, still determined, and that was all Arthur needed to keep going. He took a few steps back, out of range of any attacks.
“Get out- stop this- no,” Merlin shrieked, “you cannot hurt him!”
Merlin’s body shuddered, as if at war with itself, wrenching right and left, and Merlin clawed at his own chest, leaving blood stains on his shirt. His eyes danced between black, blue, and gold, and he went in between screeching and muttering under his breath. Arthur stood at the ready, terrified by what he was watching. He didn’t know what to do to help him.
Finally, Merlin came to stand in front of Arthur, clear blue eyes staring at him.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered, and dug his dagger right into his own sternum, angling upwards to pierce the heart.
***
Merlin again stood, or floated, or whatever, in the warm bright place, now presumably gone once more from his physical self in the mortal world. But something was different. The chill and wail of the wind would occasionally pierce the calm, the dark shadows would flicker at the corners of his vision. He couldn’t hear Uther’s anger, but he could feel it, somehow, and he could feel its ferocity. And his frobana army flickered in and out of existence all around Merlin. Could they really do what Uther had said to Merlin’s soul, in this place?
“Triple Goddess?” Merlin whispered.
“I AM HERE, EMRYS.”
“What…” implored Merlin, quietly, “what happens now?”
“NOW YOU MUST GATHER ALL THAT YOU WOULD WISH FOR THE FUTURE, FOR ARTHUR, FOR ALBION, AND FOR EVERYONE YOU CARE FOR. YOU MUST PRESS INWARD, WITH THE MAGIC THAT WAS GIVEN AS YOUR BIRTHRIGHT, AND WITH WHAT RESIDES WITHIN YOUR HEART, WITHIN YOUR VERY SOUL.”
“How,” asked Merlin. “I don’t understand what…”
“QUICKLY, NOW. YOU NEED ONLY THINK OF WHAT YOU WOULD WISH IF YOU WERE GONE FROM THIS DARK PLACE. THIS PLACE WITHOUT LIGHT. THIS PLACE WITHOUT TIME OR WARMTH OR CONSEQUENCE. HOLD IT IN YOUR HANDS, EMRYS.”
Merlin did not understand what more she wanted from him, what she was trying to tell him to do. He was, even without a body, exhausted, devastated, and even a little angry. But how difficult should it be to do as she asked? How hard was it to think of Arthur, to think of Gwen, the knights, Morgana, Gaius, his mother, those he trusted among the druids, even the damned dragon, of everyone he had ever cared for, trusted, or considered among his friends? Was there a better way to spend his time, really, here at the end? He had never cared for destiny, anyway. Only for them.
To his surprise, a ball of the purest light he had ever seen formed before him. He reached for it, though he couldn’t see any arms or hands before him, and pulled it toward where his heart would be. It was so blindingly white, it made the bright warmness around him seem dim by comparison.
He felt the soothing heat of it. He felt at peace.
“NOW I WILL SEND YOU TO COMPLETE THE BEGINNING OF THIS JOURNEY, AND SET YOU ON THE PATH TO ITS CONCLUSION.”
If Merlin had still had a face with which to make a face, he would have made one. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” he said.
“THERE IS NO TIME IN THIS PLACE. THINGS ARE POSSIBLE HERE THAT ARE NOT POSSIBLE IN YOUR WORLD. HOLD WHAT YOU HAVE MADE, EMRYS. YOU WILL KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT WHEN THE TIME COMES. A WORD OF WARNING. YOU MUST RETURN HERE TO ME WHEN YOU HAVE COMPLETED YOUR TASK, OR YOU AND ARTHUR WILL BE LOST FOREVER. DO NOT DELAY. GO AND RETURN QUICKLY.”
***
Merlin found himself standing in a wood, apparently in the middle of nowhere. It was cool outside, and bright, but not nearly so bright as where he had been. He was astonished at having arrived here, and even more astonished to find that he had a body. A body undamaged by any blade, skirmish, or frobanan possession. He recognized this place. He had been hunting or on some errand with Arthur in these forests a hundred times. He was in the king’s wood surrounding the castle, albeit in one of the deeper portions from the looks of the aged trees and the lack of any sign of roads or human disturbance.
And then it caught his eye. A sigil made from sticks and ivy. He was very near to a druid camp. And it was then that he noticed, now having hands once more, that he was holding a palm-sized white jewel cupped within them. And then he knew, somehow with certainty, what he must do.
He found the camp shortly before sundown. Needless to say there was quite a commotion when he presented himself, although they had heard him and guided him there in his mind as he told them the story of what had happened. Sure enough, they confirmed Merlin’s suspicions as he communed with them on his way to their encampment. They had heard of no peace overtures from the king, and they had certainly attended no summit at the castle. They had presented no white jewel to Arthur.
When he arrived at the camp, Merlin presented the jewel to Iseldir, explained as much as he dared without risking any interference with what needed to happen next, assured the druids that Arthur would contact them, would invite them to a summit, and that the king was indeed sincere about his desire to improve relations between magic wielders and the kingdom. He also explained the importance of the jewel, and that they would face great danger if they chose to do as he asked.
“We will do as you ask, Emrys, though I must confess, I still do not quite fully understand this,” Iseldir said.
“Neither do I,” Merlin replied. “Neither do I.”
As he walked back into the forest in the direction from which he had come, he felt his legs grow numb, felt his vision going blurry as if after a night’s drinking, and he was again back in the bright, warm place with the Triple Goddess. The flickering shadows were fewer, now, and he saw them less often.
“NOW YOU MUST RETURN, AND YOU MUST PUSH THE ABOMINATION FROM YOUR HEART AS WELL AS YOUR BODY. I AM WITH YOU, AND ARTHUR WILL BE WITH YOU. TRUST YOURSELF, EMRYS. TRUST YOUR BOND.”
***
Merlin lay on the floor stones in the ballroom. He could not speak. He could not move voluntarily. He was surrounded by swirling, smoky shadow. Somehow, he knew that Arthur was there with him, encouraging him, pleading with him to return from the dead.
And this was all that Merlin needed to hear. Uther would not have his way, now. Merlin had come too far to allow this creature to have his body, to take any more from him when he had gone to his death and returned again for Arthur. This, surely, was his destiny. This is what he was supposed to do, and he would do it. For Arthur. Merlin was alive, if only for this one, last moment. He simply had to stay that way, or ensure that there was no living body for the frobana to inhabit. Presumably, having been wounded in its original form and nearly killed afterward as part of Merlin, it had nowhere left to go, now, but to the realm from which it had come. He simply needed to push it out, or to leave nothing for it to inhabit.
With every bit of strength he had remaining within him, he channeled every ounce of magic he could grasp. He uttered no incantations, not with his lips because, of course, he could not speak, but not even in his mind. He thought only, as the Triple Goddess had suggested, of what he would have had if all of this had never happened. He felt Arthur’s kisses. He felt the warmth inside himself, made not of some divine presence or hope of destinies that would never be, but of his love for this man and the kingdom they both called their home.
The creature screamed inside his mind, and then fell silent. Merlin felt it rushing out of him like wind into the nothingness it had come from. He felt a hand brush through his hair. And then, exhausted but relieved, he passed out of consciousness, not into the twisted realm of undeath, but simply to a dreamless sleep.
Before he drifted off, he could have sworn he saw Arthur’s beautiful prat eyes looking closely into one of his own.