Just A Little Wicked: A Limited Edition Collection of Magical Paranormal and Urban Fantasy Tales

by Lily Luchesi

  She leaned back, her eyes searching his face. “You sound as though you speak from experience.”

  Giving a rueful smile, he said, “Indeed I do. Did you truly think I valued the entire Coven, one that treated me like a joke, more than my freedom?”

  She shook her head. “Can you tell me, how did you wind up in this predicament?”

  His chest tightened, recalling his own cowardice, but he nodded. “I will tell you.”

  * * *

  After Arthur requested he remain a magician despite residing in Camelot, Merlin was given nearly everything he ever desired. A large, posh sitting room and bedchamber within the castle, sumptuously furnished, a title of Royal Magician, and power.

  No longer was he considered the weak simpleton who befriended his superiors and acted like a little lapdog for them. No, he was feared by the other inhabitants of the castle, even Gwen, to an extent.

  The control he now possessed was intoxicating. Including that over the fate of the Coven. There was precious little he cared for within its confines, and absolutely nothing that cared for him in return.

  He was no one there, inconsequential, a drone meant to do busywork to care for the good of the Queen. It never struck him that perhaps he traded nondescript servitude for one tyrant for the same to yet another who was not so benign.

  That was the thing about being given power after seventeen years of having none. It controlled you more than you controlled it. If left unchecked, it got to not just your head, but your heart and soul as well, like an infection.

  And it felt incredible, even as it slowly killed you.

  Merlin did not kill anyone during the thirty or so days he sat beside Arthur as his personal advisor. However, when the king requested he assist in the punishment of criminals, he did not shirk away.

  To the man who stole gold from a local jeweller, Merlin turned his hands to gold, rendering them completely useless.

  When a woman was brought in for bearing false witness against a neighbour, Merlin gave her an entire bottle of Liar’s Lament, a potion which caused great, wracking pain within the taker had they told any lies recently. The woman had to be taken away to the dungeons to finish out her punishment.

  Another man was arrested for abusing his wife, and Merlin took great pleasure in using a formerly illegal curse to torture the man personally for hours while others looked on. And he did so with a smile.

  Yes, people feared him, as they rightly should.

  But there was more than fear and respect Merlin desired. He wished for friendship, camaraderie. Love. Things he never possessed before, things he wondered if he was destined to never know intimately.

  One afternoon, he was paged to come to Arthur’s sitting room. He went posthaste. Despite his usefulness, never before had he been invited to the private chambers of the king. Aside from Guinevere, he believed no one ever had before.

  Once there, he found the teenage king seated on a large, ornate sofa, legs crossed, a look of contemplation on his face.

  “Sir?” Merlin said quietly, so as not to startle him.

  Arthur glanced over at him and beckoned him inside. “Sit, please. Have a cuppa. I wish to chat.”

  Something inside Merlin perked up, that little sleeping part of his brain, drunk on power, was more alert than it had been in well over a fortnight.

  “Very well, sir. Thank you.” Merlin poured some tea and, while it smelt fine, feigned drinking it. “What did you wish to speak to me about?”

  Arthur picked up a piece of parchment and looked it over. “Did you know I had a bigger reason for asking for witches to surrender to Camelot?”

  Merlin shook his head.

  “You never wondered why I didn’t kill everyone outright for being unnatural creatures who once besieged our kingdom?”

  Once more, Merlin shook his head, apprehension tightening his chest. “I assumed you wanted to strengthen your kingdom.”

  Arthur smirked. “An excellent assumption, and in a way, I did. But it is more than that. It was to spare my knights from needless, and inevitable, death.

  “Accolon, for example. He was … average. Almost laughably so. My father, before the illness took him, told me of the hidden power within your former Coven, how a mere handful of you all could destroy the country should you see fit to do so.”

  Merlin knew some magicians had that sort of power.

  “Why invite them into your home instead?” he asked.

  “Because, my friend, surrender is safer than battle. I did not wish to harm any of my people unnecessarily.”

  “You are a good king, sir,” Merlin said honestly. That was surprisingly kind.

  “I am trying. And there was a good turnout. My father studied the Coven and their bloodlines to figure out how to best defeat them all when the time came. Certain bloodlines possess much more power than others, and there were names he gave me before he passed, names of those to neutralise before I attempted to take the Coven down. Names that, without whom, the Coven would be nearly defenceless.

  “Some of you came to the kingdom on your own. You, for example. And Guinevere. For all her doe-eyed prettiness, I am not stupid. She harbours great power within that beautiful package,” Arthur explained.

  “Me?” Merlin said. “I am … no one. Especially not in the Coven’s collective opinion.”

  Arthur chuckled. “You are an Emrys, one of the most talented conjurers in history. The only reason your parents died was because they tried to assist the Le Fays. Did you know?”

  Merlin could barely shake his head no. “You mean to say your father executed them as well?”

  “No, the knights stopped them trying to break the Le Fays free,” Arthur replied. “They were treated the same as any other criminal, no matter who they were. But make no mistake, had they not been so bloody loyal, they would never have met such an early end.

  “Your talents were wasted there in that Coven. It is why I wished to have you continue practicing. The kingdom benefits greatly from your talents.

  “However … there are three people within the Coven my father made me promise to eradicate if I could not convert them.”

  “The Queen,” Merlin guessed. He wasn’t exactly a fan of hers himself, despite acting as such while he was in the Coven.

  “Of course. She’s not the Queen by merely being elected by your predecessor. No, she’s shrewd, and her mind makes her more powerful than she has any right to be.” Arthur looked at the paper again. “Fiona Guilfoyle. She hails from a powerful magical Clan in Scotland, and for that allegiance alone, she must be contended with.”

  Another death Merlin wouldn’t cry over. Fiona was as much a bully as Accolon was, if not worse.

  “And last…” Arthur trailed off. “The Princess of Poison herself, Morgana Le Fay.”

  “Morgan?” Merlin spat, to be sure he heard correctly. “She sits in the castle dungeons and plays with potions. How can she possibly be a threat to you or your kingdom?”

  Ignore the pounding of your heart. Ignore it, he told himself, clutching the teacup between two pale hands.

  Arthur shook his head. “Did you live under a rock when you were there? Morgan is an energy manipulator. More deadly than Guilfoyle could be. Father told me, her parents were enemies of this kingdom, her father capable of levelling entire towns by using mere energy alone. Her mother was a potioneer, apparently. Father wanted her dead along with them, but he was loath to kill a child. Now it’s up to me to finish what he began and avenge his death.”

  Merlin swallowed hard. “You believe Morgan killed him?”

  “I believe she created some magical pestilence in that dungeon of hers and sicced it on him in some convoluted facade of revenge for her parents,” Arthur explained. “And it makes sense. She is one of the few capable of it. Hence the nickname.”

  Merlin swallowed hard. “And … since even Gwen couldn’t get her to surrender?”

  Arthur cast a steely green gaze on the young wizard. “Then she’s first on my list to erad
icate like the infectious vermin she is.”

  Glad he didn’t drink or eat anything, bile rose in Merlin’s throat, hot and corrosive as he tried to swallow it back. He carefully set his cup down, willing his hands not to tremble, and was successful.

  “When are you planning to do this?” he wondered. “And why call me in to discuss it?”

  Arthur leaned back, re-crossing his legs. So at ease discussing murder. “Guinevere informed me that you were not well-liked and had precious few confidants within the Coven. That, in fact, you defected because it was better to fit in here than be ostracised there. Am I on the right track, Emrys?”

  Merlin nodded, the movement making the room spin.

  “With your power, and your hatred for the Coven and its members, you are the natural choice to assist me in getting rid of the Queen, Fiona, and that poisonous wretch. You could best her, from what I’ve seen of you as of late.”

  Of course he could, if she were caught by surprise. Were it to be an even duel, he was unsure of who the victor could be. She was talented, and crafty, and he knew she would never give in without a fight. But that mattered not. At least, not to him, not in that moment.

  Unlike the rest of the Coven, he never hated Morgan. Certainly, she wasn’t kind to him, but she never went out of her way to find and ridicule him.

  He could clearly recall the day when they were thirteen, and Fiona and Accolon were terrorising him in the castle courtyard. Despite being Morgan’s best friend, she had no qualms about jinxing Fiona. She not only got the worst of the bullying to cease, she had bent down and healed his injuries with magic and asked him if he was all right.

  She was not the demon Arthur believed she was.

  “In any case, Emrys, I merely wished to convey my desire that you should prepare yourself for when I feel we can safely eradicate those three from God’s good Earth and move forward with colonising the Coven,” Arthur finished.

  Merlin nodded and stood, sweeping his cloak behind him. “Indeed. Thank you for the update, my lord.” Head held high, he exited the king’s chambers and stalked down the hallway, revelling in the way others moved out of his way.

  How true it was that he hated the way he had been treated within the Coven by his contemporaries who thought him a weak brownnoser, but now reality came crashing down upon him, and he felt quite ill.

  Quickening his pace, he walked down a few flights of stairs and went to the stable, seeing it was nearly ten in the evening. Perfect darkness covered Camelot, broken only by candlelight within some rooms of the castle.

  Having free reign within, he went to the stable and saddled a black steed, readying it for a two hour journey at its fastest gallop. He did not stop to think about the sheer madness of what he was doing. Were he to stop and allow rationality to catch up with him, his cowardice would prevent him from going.

  And he had to go. He must, before it was too late.

  With a quick break to rest the horse and allow it to drink, Merlin arrived at the border of the Coven’s lands within two hours. Knowing it was safe, he tied the steed to a thick tree trunk within the forest, near enough where it could graze and drink from the river.

  He took off at a run towards the castle, only to be accosted by two beefy guards with more muscle than they had sense.

  “Stop right there!” one demanded, without even beginning to use magic to get Merlin to stop.

  “Silentium!” he cast, whipping out his wand. The spell travelled between the two. He then cast, “Ligabis!”

  They both fell to the floor, bound and silent, until he released them or the magic wore off. And as good as he was at charms and curses, it would last a good long while. Long enough for him to do what he needed to.

  He dashed around their prostrate forms, his boots nearly silent in the high grass. With the exception of possible astrologists and perhaps Morgan, he was certain most everyone who resided inside and not within the Coven village were asleep.

  He wrenched open the front doors, coming face to face with the Queen.

  She stared at him with sparkling silver eyes. “Merlin Emrys, welcome back.”

  “H-how…”

  “I keep an eye on my Coven. Now tell me, why should I not kill you where you stand for your traitorous ways?” she wondered.

  Struggling to catch his breath, he gasped out, “He wants to kill her.”

  “Her?” The Queen cocked an eyebrow.

  “Morgan!” Merlin hissed, trying to control his erratic breaths in time with his heartbeat. “He believes Morgan killed Urther and he wants her dead. He wants you dead, and Fiona Guilfoyle.”

  Aritza stepped closer. “Why would any of that bother you, young Merlin? You abandoned us. Why care what happens now?”

  “I made a mistake, all right?” Merlin spat. “I wanted to go somewhere where I’d be … appreciated.” He dared not say the true reason, not to her. “Arthur told me tonight that he plans to kill her … kill all three of you. And I…”

  “You wished to rush in here and save Miss Le Fay as though she were a damsel in distress?” She looked amused, the corners of her lips slightly upturned. “Do you believe she would show you any gratitude whatsoever after you tossed the entire Coven to the side like rubbish?”

  “I-I don’t need her gratitude, My Lady. I just … I needed to tell you. To warn you. I never wanted anyone to die.” Maybe Fiona.

  “And when does he plan on killing us, if I am to believe you?” she asked.

  “I do not know. He told me to be prepared. He … he wants me to do it. He wants me to kill Morgan!”

  Aritza scoffed. “Not such a tough wizard now, are you? Tell me, was the power trip worth it?”

  “Stop antagonising me!” Merlin yelled, surprised with himself. “Damn you, I am trying to save your life along with hers and you sit here belittling me. I know bloody well that I am fortunate you did not kill me the moment you saw me.”

  The Queen smiled. “Angry now? Good. It’s better than the snivelling little coward you were a moment ago.”

  Merlin couldn’t hide his surprise if he tried.

  She continued, “Now, you came here, knowing I might kill you straight away. Would that truly have been worth it?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation.

  “Admirable. You do have a spine.” She began to walk around him in circles, her sparkling, diaphanous robes trailing behind her like gossamer wings. “Because you were brave enough to come here, I won’t kill you.”

  “I couldn't care less if you did, as long as you protected her … protected yourself and Fiona, too.”

  She made a noncommittal noise in her throat.

  “I regret desiring power so much that I left,” he blurted out. “If this was all I could do to redeem myself, it will have been enough for my soul.”

  “Were I to allow you to return, would you?” the Queen asked.

  “Yes,” Merlin replied, though he held no real hope that he would ever be allowed to come back.

  “If you so desire, you may return. But first … what more will you give me, Emrys, to make up for your transgressions?”

  What else did he have besides his loyalty?

  “Anything.”

  Not to return to the Coven, but to remain alive to try and right his wrongs.

  Aritza chuckled. “Good boy. However, you possess nothing I or this Coven could ever need. Except your current rapport with the mortal king.”

  Merlin didn’t speak even as she paused, waiting for her to get to the point.

  “I don’t wish for your return here quite yet, dear boy. First, I wish you to prove your loyalty is true this time.”

  More silence from him. He learnt it was better to not speak and let the person from whom you sought information ramble on and give you more than they would have if you directed their thoughts with a question or comment.

  “You will remain on little Arthur’s good side, and report here to me every fortnight with whatever information you gleaned from Camelot.”

&nbs
p; “What will you do to protect Morgan if I do this?”

  She gave him a knowing little smile. “I had originally forbade her and Miss Guilfoyle from going on a three month long trek into the Amazon to search for rare plants for their potion making. I can send them away, buy us some time should Arthur try to strike soon. Is that sufficient, Emrys?”

  Merlin nodded, swallowing hard. “All right, then. I’ll do it. I’ll be the Coven spy.”

  Chapter Six

  Morgan listened to Merlin’s story, knowing he wouldn’t lie. Not when she could make Liar’s Lament or just ask the Queen for the truth. It took her a few minutes to mentally digest what she heard.

  “So that’s why the old witch had a sudden change of heart about our trip,” she commented. Turning to Merlin, she asked, “Why would you be so concerned about me of all people?

  He gave her a rueful little smile that was gone as soon as it appeared. “You were kind to me when you didn’t need to be, when it could have made your friends ostracise you much as they did me.”

  She nodded. It made some sort of twisted sense.

  Merlin rustled his cloak as he stood. “I should be getting back. I do not wish to be spotted before dawn.”

  Morgan stood as well and held a hand out to him in a most unladylike fashion. He took it and they shook, the same tendrils of magic creeping between their clasped palms.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “You are not the person I thought you were.”

  He cocked his head. “And what was that?”

  “The coward who pleased the Elders and went through the motions. If I may, the most intriguing thing you told me just now was about your hunger for power. It … equalised you.” She gave a small smile and he returned it. “Now, let me walk you back to the river. I wish to speak with you.”

  “Why walk with me?” he asked.

  She placed a finger to her lips. “The castle walls have ears, Emrys.”