by J. M. Briggs
Arthur turned away and Alex forced her head to turn so she could watch what he was doing. He stepped closer to the lake and raised both hands, Cathanáil still gripped tightly in his right hand. Sparks of white magic swirled around him and the blood on the sword’s hilt and blade began to shimmer. A wave of water burst up from the surface of the lake and for a moment Alex thought that it might be Cyrridven. But instead of striking Arthur the water began to arch over the lake as even more water rose up and began to swirl. White magic flowed into the water and a vortex began to form in front of Arthur.
Alex could hear only the sound of the water churning and the slowing beat of her heart in her ears. Arthur was completely still in front of her and once again Alex found herself grasping for her magic, but the pain made it impossible to focus. The edges of her vision were darkening, she was so thirsty and a cold terror was settling into her chest. Around her fingers, the blood was slowing, but she could still feel some oozing out. Distantly she wondered if the cold was keeping her alive and a bitter laugh almost escaped her. Arthur’s white magic began to fade away as the swirling portal of water seemed to calm to a gentle slow swirl. He moved slightly and Alex couldn’t help but gasp as she stared into the slow vertical whirlpool. Every few seconds she thought that she could see a shoreline or a fish, but it all flowed by too quickly for her to be sure.
Arthur moved again, stretching out his left hand towards the portal and he began to take a step towards it. Suddenly there was a shout nearby and there was a flash of red light that cut through the darkness as a ball of fire hit Arthur in the shoulder. Arthur snarled in pain and shouted, “Too late Aiden, the Iron Soul is dead!” and started to turn around. Another blast of fire erupted out of the forest, this time striking the sword. Arthur stumbled to grab it, but the sword slipped from his grasp and into the swirling water. Alex heard someone shout her name as Arthur dove into the swirling passage of water, grasping for the vanishing sword.
She began to turn her head as the water portal shimmered and then splashed apart. The breeze sent a few drops of water swirling through the air and they hit her face. Alex took a shuddering breath as she listened to someone crashing down the hill. Her eyes closed for a long moment as a relief began to bubble up inside of her only to be banished as the ache in her body intensified. She coughed violently which sent spasms of pain through her chest and down all her limbs.
“Oh God Alex,” Aiden’s voice gasped beside her. “It’s okay Alex,” Aiden said in a shaky voice. “Help is on the way, you’re going to be okay.”
Forcing her eyes open, Alex looked up at Aiden’s shadowy face. Between the low moonlight and her darkening vision, she could barely see him, but she could feel the despair radiating off of him. She wanted to tell him she was sorry; give him some sort of message for the others or at least some decent dying words. But it didn’t work like that, she realized darkly as the cold took over her legs. You couldn’t just keep talking, didn’t linger until you’d said what you need to. Sometimes you couldn’t speak at all.
Tears leaked out of her eyes and slid sideways into her hair. Terror clutched at her and she tried to move her hands to cover her wound again: maybe she could hold on. The cold was seeping into every bit of her body and she was so scared. If she could have Alex knew that she’d be sobbing. She wanted her Mom or her Dad or her brothers, she just wanted someone she loved there.
“Alex,” a distant voice was calling, but she couldn’t focus on it anymore. Everything was fading away, even her fear.
Then there was a warm feeling in her stomach like a heater had been placed beside her. Alex wanted to roll into comforting heat, but instead, only a soft sigh escaped her. The cold began to recede slowly and she took a small breath that didn’t hurt. Above her, Alex could hear someone panting and tried to open her eyes, but the warmth seeping through her body made it difficult to focus. She inhaled again and coughed slightly to clear the blood that had been building up in her mouth. Trying again, Alex felt her lungs expanding without pain.
Alex opened her eyes and blinked several times to dispel the fog that had taken root. The darkness that had been creeping into her vision was quickly receding. Aiden was leaning over her with a look of intense concentration on his face. His hands were glowing red casting a fiery color over his face. Opening her mouth Alex felt her lips begin to crack and licked them quickly.
“Aiden,” she whispered, her brow furrowing in confusion as a nagging sensation that she forgetting something poked at her.
Aiden’s brown eyes met hers as the fire red glow in his hands vanished. He smiled, but as she began to sit up Alex could see exhaustion weighing him down. Aiden opened his mouth to say something but only a low pained groan came out as he pitched forward. Opening her arms, Alex did her best to catch Aiden and gently rolled him over so he was lying on the ground. Snow sloshed beneath them and Alex leaned over him with wide worried eyes, pushing away her own panic over what had just happened.
“Aiden thank you! Come on wake up,” Alex croaked out painfully, reaching out and touching his face gently before her fingers slid down to check his pulse.
He was breathing, but it was slow and irregular and Alex swallowed back a cry of alarm. She tried calling his name again and touched his hands, but he didn’t react. The sound of a car distracted her and Alex looked up sharply. She tried to cry out for help, but her mouth and throat were still painfully dry.
The vehicle stopped with the engine still running and Alex heard a door slam. She looked up as Morgana came rushing down the slope from the road. A sob escaped Alex as the professor slid down next to her and wrapped an arm around her even as she reached for Aiden with her other hand.
“Alex, it’s okay I’m here now,” Morgana told her gently as she leaned over and tightened her grip on Alex in a one armed hug. Morgana’s expression was fearful as she looked down at Aiden and looked around in alarm. “Where is Arthur?”
Another sob ripped out of Alex’s throat and she started to shake. “Arthur he-” another sob as the memory of his smile as she was dying flashed through her mind. “He stabbed me with the sword!” She forced out, wrapping her arms around herself.
“What?” Morgana gasped staring at her in shock.
“Mordred,” Alex whimpered as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “Mordred stabbed me. Aiden tried to stop him. Knocked the sword away and saved me. Went into a water tunnel.”
“He saved you from a stab wound from Mordred,” Morgana repeated to clarify with wide eyes before she leaned back and looked down at Alex’s ripped and bloody coat and shirt. “Oh by the ancestors,” Morgana marveled as her eyes jumped back to Alex’s face. “I’m a fool.”
“Aiden,” Alex whispered breaking the stare to look back at her friend.
Another car door slammed and Alex could hear people moving above them. Merlin appeared at the top of the hill and Morgana released her hold on Alex to stand up.
“Help me get Aiden into one of the vehicles,” Morgana shouted up to him. “We have to get him to the hospital.”
“Can’t you help him?” Alex asked after licking her lips. “Can’t you heal him?”
“Alex,” Morgana started to say turning back to her. Morgana’s face was conflicted and sad. “We’ll do what we can, I promise, but please stay close to me and let us get him to the hospital.”
Merlin quickly joined them and glanced around with worry at the lake. “Morgana-”
“Later,” she said quickly. “Merlin the Iron Soul is safe and the foes are gone.”
Merlin’s confusion was apparent, but he nodded and followed Morgana’s lead in creating a swirling cloud of magic. Streams of silver and green magic wrapped around Aiden and gently lifted him off the ground, keeping his body level. Alex watched hopefully, but he didn’t wake up. Morgana reached over and grabbed her hand tightly as the two older mages slowly began to trudge up the hill with Aiden suspended between them.
33
End of an Era
800 B.C.E. Northern Co
rnwall
Instinct roared to life as he threw his magic rapidly at any violet-eyed target and Merlin felt anger flaring in his chest each time a Síd or a hound attacked one of the villagers. There were so many of them, more than Merlin had ever seen at any one time. He was struggling between satisfaction in knowing that their efforts had alarmed the Sídhe so much that they mustered such a force and fear that they might fail to stop them now.
Riders were rampaging through the village and throwing torches on the roofs of the roundhouses. They burst into flames sending pillars of smoke curling into the air. The smell and sounds of people running and screaming sent him back to the Sídhe attack on his own village and his mother’s death. A Rider’s screamed as his horse was consumed in a swirl of blood red magic rising out of the Earth and Merlin smiled viciously. He had to remind himself of his mission and forced himself to ignore the screams and shouts as he sought out what iron was in the forges.
The Sídhe became a blur of violence and magic as he’d rushed the large bag of iron up the hill only to drop it when a pair of Hounds surprised him from the right. He’d killed them both in short order with his magic, but then the iron objects had flown from the bag and up the hill in a swirl of white magic. It had been easy to know where Arto was at that moment and he’d busied himself with destroying hounds and Riders as they poured into the Iron Realm. Then the world had slowed down as from a distance he’d watched Medraut stab Arto and send his pupil falling to the ground.
Merlin charged a blast of magic only to have a Síd warrior swing at him with a golden sword. Terror and rage warred in his chest as Merlin stuck down the warrior only to be swarmed by three more. The blood protection swirled around one of them and slowed the other two down long enough for Merlin to send a bolt of green magic into the first one’s chest. Pushing magic into his staff, Merlin swung it sharply through the air and struck the second Síd’s head with a satisfying crack.
The metal of the gate was still glowing and pulsing with power as the magic settled into the rocks, plants, and dirt all around the tunnel. Merlin could feel some of it washing over him as he dropped to his knees beside Arto. Dropping his staff, he reached out with a shaking hand and placed it tenderly on the boy’s head and embraced the swell of grief inside of him.
It eclipsed the pain he’d felt at his mother’s passing all those years ago. This was sharp and bitter and cut much deeper. His fingers shifted through Arto’s messy hair as the world around him faded away for a moment. Gently he rolled him over so his face was turned towards the sky and searched for any sign of life, but the man was not breathing. There was no heartbeat and the flow of blood from his wound had stopped.
“No,” Merlin cried. The words slipped from him and cut the fog that was weighing down on him. “Arto,” he called as icy panic surged through him. “Arto!”
But the young man didn’t move. He didn’t grumble and open his eyes. He didn’t roll over and curl up into a ball like he had as a child when he didn’t want to get up. There was just… nothing. The shard of denial that had risen through him melted away in the face of the truth. Merlin kept moving his fingers through Arto’s hair as he forced himself to look up and take stock.
The swarm of Sídhe had lessened around the tunnel and they were spread over the hills around the village. He could see a few warriors still on the feet, but without their iron weapons they were holding off their attackers at best. One of the bolder ones was holding a Rider down on the ground as the blood protection destroyed it. Most of them were running away from the remaining Sídhe or scooping any fallen weapons they could find. A flash of pity went through Merlin’s chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from Arto’s side.
He heard a scream that drew his attention sharply back to Morgana and saw the Queen of the Sídhe throwing an orb of golden magic towards Morgana with flashing violet eyes. Queen Scáthbás was dressed in golden armor with a dark purple cloak about her shoulders and a pair of hounds flanking her. A golden spear was gripped in one of her hands and he saw her look toward Medraut who was collapsed near Arto. Merlin shivered at the look of utter rage and hatred on Morgana’s features as she glared at Queen Scáthbás who was glaring back just as fiercely.
Silver magic lashed through the air crackling with power and illuminating the area. Merlin stilled and watched as the magic sailed through the air and collided with the Queen’s golden spear. The magic wrapped around the spear and he saw it pulse as Morgana pushed more magical power forth. The spear began to dissolve as the Queen created an orb of golden magic. Merlin began to cry out a warning to Morgana, but she reached out her left hand and sent a bolt of silver magic straight into Scáthbás’ chest.
Queen Scáthbás hit the Iron Gate with a sharp cracking sound. A scream escaped her as Morgana’s magic wove around her and bound her to the Iron Gate. Writhing, the Queen clawed at the silvery magic with her golden nail guards in a desperate attempt to free herself. Merlin frowned momentarily torn between ending her life and allowing Morgana’s torment, but he was distracted by Medraut stumbling towards the sword. As the other man reached for the blade once more with a cautious expression Merlin felt rage rising in his chest.
Before he even thought about it, Merlin lashed out with a swirl of green magic. It struck Medraut in the chest and the man crumbled to his knees. Merlin wasn’t aware of commanding his magic, his mind was simply thrumming with the desire to hurt Medraut. Queen Scáthbás may have been the root of all of this, but it had been Medraut who stabbed Arto. His blood was on his own cousin’s hand.
The scream that ripped from Medraut’s throat made Merlin shiver and he pulled back his magic. As Medraut crumbled to the ground Merlin looked towards Morgana who was still lashing Queen Scáthbás with a whip made of her silver magic. Glancing around Merlin’s stomach turned at the sight of human bodies lying all around them, some dead and others dying. The village was aflame and in the orange glow, he could see people running.
“Morgana,” he called with a thin and weak voice that startled him. “Enough.”
“She’s the reason for all of this!” Morgana screamed unleashing another blast of magic that forced the queen harder against the iron.
Even at his place by Arto Merlin could smell the Queen’s flesh beginning to char and could see it turning black and cracking. The rage had not vanished from Morgana’s face and now her green eyes seemed to be glowing with grief. He felt for the girl; far more than he ever had. It had been simple to be angry with her when she was younger and had put her brother at risk even as he felt pity for the poor little girl that the Sídhe had stolen, torn apart and put back together. He’d felt proud of her from time to time in the past decade when she was impressive with her magic or proved her devotion to Arto. Now he only saw the small little girl who had just lost her brother and was facing a monster from her past.
Rising to his feet, Merlin pulled his hand off of Arto’s cooling body with a heavy heart. He glanced down at Medraut and reached down to pick up Cathanáil. The sword felt heavy in his hand and tears pricked at his eyes, but he stepped forward until he was beside Morgana. Reaching out with his free hand he placed it on Morgana’s shoulder.
She tensed but stopped her magical attack on the Queen. Stepping closer, Merlin shifted his hand around her shoulder and hugged her gently. It was awkward, but slowly the woman relaxed and dropped her hands to her sides. A loud sniffle escaped her and tears began to spill from her eyes. He eased his hold on her, not wanting her to feel trapped, but hoping that she could feel that he was there.
A sound to his right made Merlin turn his attention away from Morgana in time to catch sight of Medraut lunging at him with a sword in hand. Raising his right hand Merlin began to call for his magic only to feel the weight of Cathanáil in his hands. Slashing out with Cathanáil, Merlin heard and felt the sword sing as it sliced into Medraut’s chest. As blood spurt from the traitor’s chest in a long deep slice in his flesh, Merlin felt a stab of relief and vindication. Medraut screamed in pain and
fell back from Merlin. His sword dropped from his hands and he brought his fingers up to press on the wound in vain attempts to stop the bleeding.
White sparks of magic were still dancing over Medraut’s skin and something inside of Merlin ached at the sight of Arto’s magic still attacking Medraut. He hoped it killed the little bastard. Limping away from Merlin, Medraut looked towards the Queen and opened his mouth to speak to her. Blood spilled out from between his lips and Merlin knelt next to Arto once again, no longer fearful of anything that Medraut might do.
“This isn’t over,” Scáthbás hissed at Morgana. “One day these gates will fall and the Sídhe will sweep over your world.” She cackled before subsiding into coughs and little sounds of anguish. “You won’t be here to stop it and your precious Iron Soul is dead.”