Sword Stone Table

by Sword Stone Table- Old Legends, New Voices (retail) (epub)

  He came back to the present.

  “You’re not going to compel me for the truth?” He raised an eyebrow. “That’s unlike you.”

  “Well, now I know you know, and I’m here to help Arthur, Merlin. This time…this world, it needs him. There is so much pain here.”

  “And there wasn’t then?”

  Her eyes flashed, and it was as if it had been only minutes, not centuries, since they last met. Even with the betrayals, and suspicions, after a month of being on his own, he had to admit it was refreshing.

  “There’s more potential for good here, now, than there was then.”

  She’d wanted to be good then, too.

  “Our history would recommend I practice caution with you, Morgana. Tell me of your life here, of your intentions, of your…friendship with Arthur.” The word tasted strange in this context. Friendship? Between Arthur and Morgana? It had been there in the beginning, maybe. She paused, staring at nothing behind Merlin, then straightened her back and steeled her shoulders before answering.

  “I remember pain, and dying, and then I woke up and I was five years old again. But with the memories of a woman grown.” She refocused on his face then. “Do you know what that’s like? I had no agency, Merlin. Again. Just stuck in this small body, lying on the side of some country road, hoping someone safe would find me. But her Lady Universe provides, and funnily enough, it was Arjun’s family that came across me that day.” Her eyes softened in remembrance. Merlin was taken aback at the uncharacteristic openness of this woman he no longer knew. Need had called for her to be guarded, when he knew her last. Softness was weak. “He’s my brother,” she continued, hands clasped around her cup. Her lips turned up in a soft smile. “More so now than he was. We didn’t have the chance then, to grow side by side. But here and now? We’re in it together.”

  “You understand that I’m hesitant to believe you.”

  “I do.”

  “Then—”

  “Finally.” Before he could continue, Arjun’s deep timbre broke through his thoughts, partnered by a hand on his shoulder. A thumb grazed the point where Merlin’s neck met his shoulder, and Merlin was pulled behind a smoky haze in his own mind. He forgot. His skin tingled like he’d been touched by lightning, and Emrys felt whole and safe.

  “God, that took ages. They spilled the milk, then the bottom of the coffee bag fell out, and then poor Kady got scalding-hot coffee all down her front. They are not having a good day.”

  Emrys was aware that someone named Arjun was speaking and that a girl named Morgan sat across from him. There was something about Arjun that called to him. Something about Morgan that felt right. Emrys was lucky to have found these two. That he knew.

  “How’s the chai, Emrys? Isn’t it so good? Almost as good as my mum makes it. I swear.”

  Arjun’s hand pulled away as he moved to settle into the seat next to Emrys, and Merlin startled back to the front of his consciousness and took a deep breath.

  “He hasn’t tried it yet, too busy talking my ear off.” Morgana laughed, stealing Arjun’s attention for a second.

  Merlin’s skin burned where Arthur had touched him. He needed to understand who this Emrys was, and why he was connected to Arjun, and why Merlin was being taken. He had just found Arthur; he had been given another chance by the grace of God to build Avalon. He would not lose. He recentered his self and rejoined the conversation.

  “Okay, let’s see what all the fuss is about.” Merlin brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip. Flavors and spices he’d only heard tales of danced across his tongue, and despite the worry bubbling within him, he found himself letting out an appreciative sigh. He did enjoy this time.

  Later, after a short time of sitting in the company of this new king and listening to the siblings bicker, Merlin noticed Arjun looking at his watch. It was time to part ways. Merlin followed Arjun and Morgana out of the shop.

  “Emrys, we have to head back to ours….Do you…have somewhere to stay?” Arjun’s voice lilted up at the end, eyeing Merlin’s worn pack and dirty boots.

  “I’m sure he’s fine, Arjun.” Morgana tucked her arm into the crook of her brother’s elbow, leveling Merlin with a stare. He heard her promises to speak later as clear as if she’d said them out loud.

  “No, I am well housed and cared for, Ar—Arjun. But thank you for asking.” The response was a lie, but his gratitude was real.

  “All right. Well, here’s our address and a phone number….” Arjun shoved a torn piece of paper in Merlin’s direction. He reached for it and noticed that Arjun was careful not to graze his fingers when the paper passed between them. Merlin again considered how much Arjun understood and what he felt when they touched. He pushed the chit down into his pocket, gave them both a short nod, pulled his pack onto his shoulder, and turned away.

  After walking a few meters, he glanced backward once, to see if Arjun stood watching. But they’d both started in the other direction by then, their forms growing smaller and quickly lost in the crowd. He looked back and forth before reversing his direction to follow his liege into the chaos.

  Chaos was a good word to describe London. It was a cacophony of sounds and smells and sights completely foreign to him. There was virtually nothing left of the land in his memories. This London may as well have been an entire world in and of itself. He increased his pace, sending a good thought to the Maker behind his transformation, thankful for his young legs. Arjun’s broad shoulders came into view again, and Morgana’s russet hair.

  They walked toward a set of stairs that went underground, to what these Londoners called the tube. Not entirely what he pictured when he thought of the word. Merlin laughed softly; the absurdity of his situation was not lost on him. Once he’d thought himself wise and well traveled. Cosmopolitan. Cities, ha! What did he know of cities?

  Arjun and Morgana had tapped their way through mechanical, or electric, gates. He wasn’t sure of how the things worked. Merlin shook his head, clearing it of distractions. How was he going to get past the barrier without any coins or special cards? He watched two more people walk through and into the station. It was, perhaps, time to test his active magic. He’d been wary.

  No, he’d been afraid. But if his reacquaintance with Morgana had done anything, it had ignited that steady flame for experience and knowledge he held in his heart. He’d allowed passivity to reign for too long while he’d been awake, limiting himself to small charms and easy accidents. He looked at the gate again, imagining he could see vibrations of amber in the air around it.

  Open, he thought. Open for me.

  A sliver of something pushed past his lips and into the air. His words twisted brokenly toward those orange and gold tendrils, entwining and pulling them outward. The gate shuddered once. Merlin’s breath hitched, and he felt wetness as a drop of sweat trailed down his back. Open, he breathed out once more, and the spell took hold.

  The doors slid apart, and with his heart pounding, he vaulted through. He could spy the top of Arjun’s head above the crowds moving in the direction of the southbound entrance, leagues ahead of him. It was too late; he wouldn’t catch them now.

  So he stopped and whispered another word: “Follow.” He felt it bend this way and that, before it found the curve of Arjun’s ear and settled there. Merlin pulled away from the crowd and leaned against a wall, breathing heavily. It would have to be enough.

  * * *

  —

  That night, Merlin slept in a park and dreamed of Morgana. They were in his rooms, and he was hunched over his desk, scribbling notes on strategy and thoughts to give to Arthur. He wasn’t paying her any heed until she yanked the rough hide he’d been writing on out from under his hands.

  “Merlin,” she hissed. He’d been tiring of her snide comments and vicious curses of late. “Let me come to your meeting with Arthur tomorrow. I can help.”

 
; Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Again, she asked for what he couldn’t give.

  “Morgana, you know what your presence will do there. You know the weakness it will imply to have a woman whispering advice into the king’s ear. You want too much, my friend.”

  “You think your king doesn’t know of our partnership?” She spat out the word as though it left an ill taste on her tongue.

  At this, Merlin’s hackles rose. How dare she, to whom he’d given the world, be angry with him?

  “I gave you knowledge, Morgana, and friendship. I shared the dream of Avalon with you. And it is not enough? How much do you need?”

  “You did give me knowledge and friendship. And in doing so, you showed me that I could be equal. Should I deny that now? Should I pretend to be a simpering child, waiting only for marriage and babies? Should I find myself in someone’s bed, like the men and women who come to you, to be used and left behind? Or should I own my position, use what you have taught me to be more than what they expect of me? Will you not consider the place of a woman at the Table, Merlin?”

  The fight went out of her face as if driven off by a sudden realization of futility, and Morgana folded into a chair.

  “Always I must hide in the shadows, weaving and spinning plots for you, but will my voice never be heard by men? Only here, in your bleak tower, hooded and alone? Unable to use my full talents?”

  “You do this for Camelot, and for Avalon, Morgana. Not for me.”

  She shut her eyes and leaned her head back.

  “They are all one and the same to me, Merlin.”

  When Merlin woke, he was surprised to feel a damp path of tears on his cheeks. He hadn’t known it then, but that moment had been a crossroads. That was when they’d lost her.

  * * *

  —

  Three days passed before Merlin saw Arthur again. He’d felt his spell, usually somewhere to the south of him, still sitting softly on Arthur’s person, moving in his direction. There’d been no word from Morgana. It troubled him. He couldn’t get that dream out of his head. But it was a clear, cool night in the center of London, and Merlin was lying on a bench in a public square. He was toying with the rough edge of the king’s note in his pocket.

  He slept out of doors more often than not these days, and it was as he liked it—noise and congestion and all. There was a security in discord; silence was too heavy. He spent his daylights strengthening his spellwork, and now a living mask encompassed his whole body, stopping passersby from taking that which was not theirs.

  The word he’d left on Arthur was close now. He turned his head to the left and stared out at the late-night crowds, weaving unsteadily toward their homes like one giant, drunken ocean of humanity. Arjun came into view a few moments later, glassy eyed, with his head knocked toward a young man walking next to him.

  “You absolute tit, Arjun. That guy was asking for your number and you directed him to the loo. What is wrong with you?”

  “He thought my name was Vinay and that we’d gone to school together. I don’t care how hot you are if you can’t tell brown people apart, John.” But Arjun wasn’t paying attention to John. Merlin watched as Arjun’s gaze narrowed before he stalled a few feet away from Merlin and eyed the bench warily. Merlin knew that what Arjun saw was a vague, dark form huddled against the wood. A form that would make him feel anxious. Nervous. One that should repel him.

  Instead, he stared at Merlin. “Emrys, is that you?”

  “Uh, Arjun, mate, leave the lump on the bench alone, would you?”

  “No, I think it’s someone I know.”

  Merlin shook off the spell and sat up. He wondered again about how much Arthur knew in the recesses of his mind. How much he recognized. How else had he seen through Merlin’s magic?

  “Hello, Arjun.”

  “This is what you meant by ‘well housed and cared for’?” Arjun gestured at the seat, disbelief etched across his features. Merlin half shrugged in response.

  “What can I say except that the world’s an excellent home. I manage.”

  “Can I ask what is going on?” Arjun’s friend had moved and positioned himself in between Merlin and Arthur. Merlin was pleased to see loyalty but irritated at the intrusion. It was as if nothing had changed. Gawain and Percival, filling Arthur’s head with nonsense. Itching at Arthur’s heels during every lecture, interrupting his education. Arthur’s knights but his friends, too. Young men who would die for their king but young all the same, not yet studied in the way of temperance, of understanding their own mortality.

  Then Arjun lightly pushed the man aside.

  “Nothing, John. He’s a friend. How about you head on, and I’ll ring you tomorrow?”

  The man, John, took a few steps back, weighing the situation. He stared at Merlin, jaw clenched with clear distrust. But then his stance slackened, and he turned back to Arjun.

  “If…you’re sure.”

  Arjun spoke again, eyes never leaving Merlin’s face. “I’m sure.” A dismissal so clear in those two words that Merlin very nearly laughed out loud. How could anyone not see how royal this man was? Arthur didn’t look to see if John was listening, if John had left. There was just an assurance reflected in every inch of him, that he would be listened to.

  He moved to sit next to Merlin, the rough fabric of his sleeve grazing Merlin’s hand as he sat. He rested his palms on his knees and stared straight ahead, waiting a moment before speaking again. Merlin was content to sit next to his liege.

  “You should come to ours, Emrys. You can’t sleep outside like this. It’s not right.”

  “Should we ask Morgan—” He stumbled a bit, leaving off the last syllable. “I don’t want to impose, Arjun.”

  “She’s been off on a nature hike, actually. I’ve got the place to myself.”

  Arjun suddenly turned his head. His eyes were black in the low light of the square. “I’ve dreamed of you, Emrys, and it’s unnerving me. It’s as if you know me. You stand in my head and tell me what to do. But…you’re not you and I’m not me.” An uncharacteristic hesitation bit into his speech. Merlin stayed his own tongue and waited for Arjun to finish his thought. “You’re important, I’m important. And I don’t know why I know that. But I do?” His voice went up at the end, in a question.

  Arthur was remembering something. That was important. But how? And why?

  Merlin knew that he needed to decide what to tell Arthur, and in what way. He also knew that now was not the time. He didn’t have the language yet. Or the understanding. Something had opened his eyes and had brought him back to try again. To make up for the last time.

  Nothing had prepared Merlin for hearing the scream rent from Arthur’s throat when Mordred had stabbed him from behind. It was a sound of sheer agony, and one that Merlin had tried to tamp down into the recesses of his deepest thoughts. It was heartbreak given form. Merlin was the one who told Arthur to go that day, to fight the men coming for his power. He was the one who planned it all.

  And now his king was looking to him for answers again.

  He resisted the urge to use magic to make this easier: to push Arthur’s questions to the back of his head, where they wouldn’t trouble him. It was too intrusive, and Merlin had learned his lesson there. He’d orchestrated, and he’d schemed, and he’d ended up imprisoned. But that was then. Now was different. It had to be.

  “If your question concerns fate, would that I could give you answers. But know that I also think we’re connected, Arjun.” Arjun’s name left his lips, and unthinking, Merlin took his pale hand and placed it over Arjun’s brown one, still resting on his knee.

  Merlin became Emrys. Arjun was next to him and looking into his eyes, and Emrys found himself tethered. Arjun’s skin was warm under his palm. He looked at their hands and pressed down, just the slightest pressure, to confirm that this was all real.

/>   “Emrys?”

  Emrys answered without looking up.

  “Yes?”

  “Come on, let’s head back to mine.” Arjun flipped his hand, wrapped his fingers loosely around Emrys’s, and pulled him up alongside. There wasn’t much that Emrys knew, and while that thought should frighten him, it didn’t. He was calm because he and this man were connected. And that was enough because it would lead to more. Everything in him was sure of it.

  “Okay.”

  Arjun didn’t let go of his hand.

  * * *

  —

  Merlin woke, disoriented. He was in a bed, covered by a heavy, warm blanket. A soft pillow under his head. The room around him had yellow walls, an open window, and more books than he’d seen in his entire lifetime. But he had no recollection of how he’d arrived in such a place. He only remembered Arthur. He remembered not remembering. He was terrified and confused, and he hated being confused. This was not him.

  “Good morning, Merlin.” Morgana’s voice broke through his thoughts. “I thought we were going to meet elsewhere. Arjun thinks you’re homeless and wants to help you. I think his instincts are screaming at him.” She was sitting in a chair next to the bed. It was a strange comfort finding her there. And how concerning was that, that he’d come to find Morgana a comfort?

  “I—Arthur…he—”

  “Arjun,” she interrupted.

  “Yes, of course.” He felt uneven; he needed to find his footing. Unequal standing was never a safe space with Morgana. “Arjun brought me. He found me. Sleeping outside.”

  “Merlin.” Again, he felt the spells slipping into his ears and into his mouth, coating his tongue. “What are you hiding?”

  She was sitting casually, her spine curved against the back of her chair, girlishly tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She looked so damned young.