by GR Griffin
Elätha winced at the words unwillingly. He understood what she meant by this, he didn’t have magic. He couldn’t cast spells, he couldn’t feel magic. It was a tragedy. On his seventh birthday, his mother had wept the entire day because he failed his initiation. The next year after that he failed again; by the age of eight it was normal for a druid child to at least be able to cast a few simple spells. It wasn’t that he wasn’t trying, he just couldn’t find magic – magic had never reached out to him. A Druid without magic; his lips tightened. It was pathetic. His father had almost taken the throne from him and appointed somebody else with magic. And yet he was a Clan Leader, in a magical world, born in a magical world. It was a mystery, one nobody ever would solve or understand. Topia appeared to have noticed the offence she had caused and softly smoothed a hand over his shoulder sympathetically.
“We need to take this to Gaius now.” Leon picked up the gun much to the protest of all around him, unaware of the silent dialogue occurring between Topia and Elätha. With that Elätha and Leon disappeared into the trees, Lancelot close behind them. Gwaine assumed Topia had followed, until he felt a shoulder nudge his own.
“This Naemon stuff doesn’t sound good.” He exhaled deeply.
“It isn’t. But Merlin will be fine.” She assured. When he raised an eyebrow at her, dejection on his face, Topia explained. “There was only a small concentration of the magic on the gun. Merlin’s lucky that whoever did this is not very experienced…we’re all lucky.”
“Do you think it was Morgause?” he asked, lowering his voice despite nobody else being around. Meeting his eyes, Topia drew her lips into a stern line.
“If it was, then we needn’t worry.”
“Because she’s dead.” Gwaine added, although something in his voice was lacking. His eyes were vacant, staring at the horizon with no real focus. His body was motionless and still, he seemed lost in thought. She noticed the absence of conviction in his tone, but said nothing on the matter. Topia began to walk towards the trees, away from Gwaine. That was when Gwaine sprung back into life, turning to face her. Any sign of worry or strain faded from his complexion, leaving his usual demeanour people had come to love and appreciate.
“If you wanted to ask me on a date, you only had to ask you know.”
Drawing her eyebrows together, Topia rolled her eyes.
“Don’t flatter yourself Gwaine.” She teased. Yet there was a small twitch of her lips that she couldn’t control; it revealed a hidden smile. “Besides you told Gwen it was a date.” Her eyes flickered with mirth. “What did Lance and Leon mean by ‘last time’-”
Gwaine hauling her by the arm away from the ruins of Iaonam.
“I think it’s time we left, and I will never disclose that information.”
♦☼♦
With a whisper, Arthur conjured a golden orb of light that hovered around him and revealed his surroundings. To his left, rocks and rubble blocked the way, leaving him no choice but to go left. It was eerie and silent, hardly resembling a Cave at all. There were no traces of the features expected, until he found himself a few footsteps later in a circular clearing. Sunlight trickled down through the many holes in the ceiling, providing angular – yet efficient – light. For Arthur, it was enough to begin his search. The orb slowly trickled out of existence, disintegrating in the air.
Shards of magnificent crystal – hypnotic and alluring – lay scattered beneath his feet and all around. He cast a glance hesitantly towards them, admiring their curious glisten. As the sunlight touched them, they whispered for attention. They craved to be cradled and gazed into. They seemed so harmless and beautiful, sprinkled around his surroundings. Some shards were so miniscule, acting as mere individual grains of sand would on a beach. But others were still relatively in tact, a rare few bigger than his hand. Arthur walked a little further into the clearing, studying the enigmatic crystals around.
He’d heard all about the powers of these crystals, what they could do, what they did to those chosen to look into them. Merlin had looked into them; it had shown him so much in just a few seconds. He refused to talk much about his experience with the Crystals; when he did it was evident he was withholding information. Crouching down on the ground, Arthur ran his hands over a shard of Crystal. The texture was smooth, and extremely cold.
It was then as he cautiously gazed around the clearing that an idea came into his head. It was a stupid idea to say the least, but an idea created from the best of intentions. The clearing around, it was all that was left of the Cave. If the Mortius Flower was here, it was going to be a task to find. The Crystals, they saw into the future. Perhaps the Crystals would show Arthur where the flower was? He instantly heard a voice in his head berating this idea. It was ridiculous. For one, the Crystals didn’t share their secrets with everyone. He hardly doubted the crystals would be willing to help him, after all he was the reason many of them were scattered across the ground in pieces.
But it was a chance wasn’t it?
If they did how him the future then he could find the flower’s location surely. It could show him how to save Merlin. He picked up one of the Crystals from the ground, staring at it intensely. As he got onto his feet, all he saw was his own reflection gazing back. He remained this way for another minute, hoping that Albion and magic would give him a chance and help him save Emrys. Nothing happened. The Crystal remained cold, lifeless, hopeless. It wouldn’t help him. Of course it wouldn’t. He had magic, but no enough for the Crystals to accept. Angrily, he tossed the Crystal across the clearing, flinching as it crashed against the stone and cracked terminally into bits.
A helpless sound escaped his lips, resembling a broken sob. Merlin. He was dying. They had days to find this fucking flower, and yet it seemed impossible to find. Desperately, Arthur dived to the ground, adrenaline pumping through his veins. The Mortius Flower was small, discreet and modest. Considering the degree of its powers it was not what one expected. According to Gaius, it had yellow petals, and drooped its head a little as if saddened by its isolated life inside a chamber of unknown futures and foretold destinies.
It was big enough to fit into the palm of a hand, small enough to overlook or dismiss as a discolouring of the ground of a trick of the eyes. That was its danger. It could save Merlin’s life – but only if it wanted to be found. Searching between the rocks, Crystals and rubble, he felt his heart racing. Still nothing. This clearing was not the largest; it would take an hour or so to search. If the flower didn’t appear he was unsure what he would do. He didn’t realise he was still holding onto a chunk of Crystal until his eyes latched onto it. By the time he did realise, eyes gazing into the Crystal, it was too late to look away.
The Crystal started to reveal its secrets, slowly at first. The transparent images waned before Arthur had time to understand them. He could hear the whispering of his name echo through the Cave. Then the pictures, the possible future, suddenly became more apparent. The images were blurred; the sounds muffled but there were moments that were so clear, so real. As it all started to unfold Arthur established that this was truly a horrible idea. He really didn’t want to see the future, and he was only expecting the Crystals to show him the near future, as in where the flower would be. It was doing quite the contrary. Dropping the Crystal in shock, Arthur moved away from it rapidly. Shit. His eyes could not erase what they had seen. Shit. He swallowed-hard, gazing down at the inanimate Crystal vigilantly. It was now nothing but a beautiful, mysterious rock.
Stepping backwards slowly, one shaking hand held to his throbbing head, the other clasping the hilt of Excalibur, Arthur attempted to feign normalcy. But how the hell could he after that? Now Arthur was used to unnatural phenomenon by now, Albion was full of it, yet the Crystals had a different atmosphere. It was haunting, formidable. A wave of panic swept over him, followed swiftly by guilt. He shouldn’t have looked, of course he shouldn’t have looked! The Crystals wouldn’t reveal the Mortius Flower to him; they were more concerned with far bigger issues. He re
called Will’s words, the Crystals weren’t always accurate. Most of what was seen never came to actually pass, but the fact that some of it did…Arthur continued to walk backwards. When he heard the peculiar crackling beneath his feet, the rough, calloused texture accompanying the sound, he slowly gazed down.
It was then it hit him.
Frantically, his eyes studied the ground. It was littered with Crystals, shards of Crystals everywhere. But it wasn’t. Oh no. There weren’t just broken Crystals; he was walking on eggshells. They had a similar appearance to the Crystals, easy to overlook and mistake. Now he could see it, they didn’t look similar at all. It wasn’t hard to deduce what the offspring were. Swiftly he pulled out his sword, eyes wide and heart racing. A soft, untamed hissing entered his ears. Turning around, Arthur saw his exit blocked by three curious, human-sized snakes. To be more precise- baby Basilisks. Their features were far less intimidating, their teeth and scales sharp but not a match to the beast he had faced in the darkness. The central Basilisk tilted its head, staring at Arthur intensely.
Meekly, Arthur pursed his lips together and distanced himself from them. They slithered forwards; Arthur gripped his sword tighter in front of him, making no verbal or physical communication with the creatures. They all gazed at the sword and flinched back a little at it. One of the Basilisks, the one in the middle, slid closer to the blonde man. For starters, it didn’t look happy. In fact, it seemed to be angry. Ah yes. Well he had killed the parent hadn’t he? Swallowing-hard, Arthur jolted forwards, sword in front of him. The creatures hissed, unfazed by the weapon and circled him. Arthur felt disorientated. The sunlight was scare and trickled through in small jets of light. Each one of these creatures were fast and agile; they were moving so fast that whenever Arthur caught sight of one, he lost sight of the other two. Unnerved he slashed his sword clumsily around him.
The serpents filtered out, giving him a bit more space. It wasn’t comforting at all. In fact, it was extremely terrifying. Darting his eyes between the two he had managed to latch onto, Arthur inhaled sharply. He had to get out. One of the serpents leapt forwards viciously, narrowly missing him. As Arthur dived out the way, he watched as the creature pummeled into the stone behind him with immense force. That is of course when the whole internal structure began rumbling rather menacingly. Heart racing, Arthur gazed up at the rocky, unstable ceiling above. It suddenly became clear just how unstable this place actually was. The Basilisks followed his actions, gazing curiously up to the trembling rocks, the noise around them. As the ground shook, Arthur took his chance.
He surged forwards through the creatures and down the cave tunnel leading to that narrow climb upwards. All around he could hear it, the collapsing of stone on stone, the crashing, thunderous noise. One of the serpents was close behind him, slithering expertly through the tunnel.
“KILGARRAH!” Arthur roared in his mind and out loud, stumbling clumsily out of the way of the rubble that was trickling down above him.
Kilgarrah, lower your tail now!
It was all descending into the hand of chaos too quickly. Arthur was unsure what or where exactly he was on its chessboard. Unnerved he continued running until he met the dead end beside the steep rocky trail upwards. He came to a halt, panting. The serpents behind him lunged, he ducked just in time. They collided with the stone ahead, creating more tremors in the ground. Panic swept through Arthur. He had seconds until he would be buried in here, trapped. He dived towards the narrow passageway, cutting his palm as he did so on a jagged piece of rock. Relief pummeled through him as he felt familiar scales finally. Wrapping his hands around the scales, Arthur clenched his eyes shut.
The sound was overwhelming. He could feel shards of rock exploding all around him, trying to crush his body and keep him trapped in here. He felt sharp splinters of Crystal slash across his skin and slice through effortlessly. Then there was an almighty thunderous noise. He felt something thud against his back – or was he falling? It was unclear. Opening his eyes, Arthur gazed up to see the Golden Dragon towering over him. He lowered his head for a moment, gasping in air that was still littered with dust and particles of miniscule stone. Behind Kilgarrah, the remains of the Cave were engulfed in a smoky haze forged from the brutal collision of rocks and debris.
It was gone; it was all gone.
Arthur ignored the twinge of pain of his bleeding palm. He set aside the fatigue plaguing his body. He got to his feet swiftly, dashing past Kilgarrah to gaze at the ruins before him. It broke him. The Crystal Cave, every last remnant had been destroyed in the final collapse of the structure. There was nothing left. Nothing was left but dust, clumps of cold callous rock. The stench of immeasurable failure clouded his lungs, choked him. Without warning Arthur fell to his knees and was unable to hold back the keening sound in his throat. Once the strange, raw sound echoed through his ears, he attempted to suppress it. He disliked the sound, it was reminder of what had happened, what he’d done. Merlin was going to die. Merlin. Merlin was going to die. It was all his fault.
In a fit of uncontrollable rage, Arthur lifted himself to his feet and yelled viciously into the sky. He took Excalibur from his belt and tossed it almost carelessly aside. It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered now. The Crystal Cave was gone. Merlin was gone. No. Merlin wasn’t gone, not yet. He still had a few days. But that was all he had left, because Arthur had failed. He had fucking failed the one person that meant the world to him, the one person who had never failed him. He cast one final glance towards the remains of the Cave. Then he turned swiftly on his heel, and began walking at a frantic pace. He was stopped abruptly in his tracks as Kilgarrah landed in front of him. He wore a deadly expression.
“You looked into the Crystals.” He said in a low tone, disappointment almost prevailing.
Swallowing-hard, Arthur glowered at the Dragon. So what did it matter if he had? It didn’t matter now; nothing mattered at all anymore. He attempted to brush past the Dragon. But of course, it was impossible to simply brush past a creature this big and intent on talking about things that simply did not matter at all right now. Gazing up at the Dragon, Arthur sighed.
“I thought it would show me the flower-” the admission sparked a dark rage in the Dragon. He roared into the sky furiously before suddenly lowering his head right to Arthur’s level.
“-You cannot simply look into the Crystals. Only those chosen are granted such things, you have betrayed Albion’s trust!”
Well, Arthur had never seen it that way. Narrowing his eyes, he leant towards the Dragon, fairly certain Kilgarrah wasn’t going to roast him or bite his head off despite the wildness in his eyes.
“The Crystals showed me…” averting his eyes, Arthur hitched his breath. He had tried not to remember what he had seen, but it was too much. Regaining composure quickly he continued. “They showed me! They didn’t have to-”
“-It seems I misjudged you Young Pendragon.” Kilgarrah shouted with a rumbling growl almost overpowering his words. “How can the Once and Future lack so much respect for the sacred relics of Albion? You bear the same arrogance as your father-”
“-No. No…” Arthur’s feisty retaliation dwindled into oblivion before it had even begun. The words were charred and disintegrated as they hit the air. Kilgarrah’s harsh words shouldn’t have affected Arthur so much. But they did. It was a like a stab wound to the chest, a gunshot to his head. He felt dizzy, guilt smothered his soul; it crept into every tiny crevasse until it completely consumed him. Like his father. His father. Oh, he hadn’t even had time to think about his Uther Pendragon, his death. Everything had happened so swiftly. Now it all exploded in his mind, thundering around his head. Uther Pendragon was dead. Merlin would soon be dead. How could he go back to Iaonem, without a cure, without hope?
Then it hit him.
He couldn’t go back.
A shudder passed through his body. He gazed up at the Dragon whose stern expression suddenly faltered.
“You have much to learn Young Pendragon,” his
voice was soothing and a vast contrast to what it had been. “Sometimes the best intentions lead to the very worst of all things. On this occasion, I am willing to gift you with something very few ever receive.”
Drawing his eyebrows together in confusion, Arthur speculatively studied the Dragon. He was about to enquire as to what exactly this was, but then a hot gust of air swept over him, spewing from the Dragon’s mouth. It rushed through every strand of his hair, over his dirty skin and through his entirety. He opened his eyes cautiously as the sensation faded. Kilgarrah nodded gently, gazing at the blonde man before him.
“You will not remember what you saw, for it was never yours to see.” With that the Dragon began walking back towards Aithusa who had stirred and was beginning to wake from her healing slumber.
Out of all of this, one thing hit Arthur more than anything. Kilgarrah seemed completely oblivious to the most important thing- Arthur hadn’t found the Mortius Flower. The Flower wasn’t here. If it was it was now crushed between thousands of heavy stones. Yet Kilgarrah was almost casually continuing as if this had not come to pass. Arthur felt a series of emotions wash over him. The first was surprise, a bitter surprise one that stung his eyes and allowed Hope to evapourate. Was this Kilgarrah’s way of accepting a dark fate? The second emotion was confusion- because why on earth was there no urgency, no sense of something colossal. The third and final emotion that refused to leave him was fury. How dare Kilgarrah act this way when Merlin was dying – on the brink of death!
Furiously, Arthur marched forwards to catch up with the Dragon. The sunlight blared down upon him.
“That’s it then?” He whispered more to himself hopelessly, watching as pieces of his heart fluttered over the horizon. When the Dragon made no response other than to pause in its tracks, Arthur took this as a horrific sign.