by J. M. Briggs
“Lovely,” Galath said. “My brother can set things on fire.”
Morgana laughed at the remark and Merlin allowed himself to chuckle but didn’t take his eyes off of Gofiben as the young man toyed with the fire. The flames danced across his fingertips and he was studying it the way that only one who lived by a forge could. After a few moments, he seemed satisfied and allowed the flames to collect into a small pulsing orb of barely constrained power. Gofiben threw it at another boulder, this time with his aim holding true. There was a flash of fiery light, a wave of heat and a rolling crash as the boulder broke apart. Rock dust and tiny fragments of stone rained down around them and Merlin smiled as the cloud of debris began to settle. The rock had been blown apart and he beamed at Gofiben.
“You see?” he said happily. “You can do it.”
“Is it bad that I have fire powers like Badb?” Gofiben questioned as an odd, worried expression cross his face.
“No,” Morgana interjected before he could say a thing. “To start out with your magic will take a form comfortable to you. My easiest form of magic is light, but I can move objects, scry and do all sorts of little things like fixing broken items. Magic is ever changing; you’ll learn how to do other things with it, but for now, your power takes the form of fire and heat.”
“Indeed, you’ll find that the Old Ones like Badb have magic that they generate while in our world, but they are not as versatile with it,” Merlin explained with a nod. “But I believe we agreed it was time to return to the village,” he added gesturing over his shoulder towards the village in question.
“Good ide-” Bran stuttered before his voice faded away, causing them all to turn and look at him.
Bran stumbled to the ground, his eyes wide and his breathing erratic. Merlin reached him first, dropped to his knees and gripped the boy’s shoulders. For a moment he was at a loss for what was happening, but then he noticed the slight shine of Bran’s dusty green magic in his brown eyes. Reaching out, Merlin brought the boy’s face up and watched his eyes begin to clear back to the natural shade.
“I… I saw,” Bran stuttered.
“What did you see?” Morgana demanded with a curious, almost eager look.
“I’m… I’m not sure,” Bran replied as he slumped down on the grass. His fingers dug into the dirt as he sought to ground himself. “It was like I was there, watching through someone else’s eyes… there were these tall shining buildings, but not like roundhouses. They were like standing stones, but people were going inside them through odd openings. They were shining in the sun- I’ve never seen anything-”
“Did these people look human?” Morgana asked with a softer, but still curious look. “Or were they something else?”
“I think they were human,” Bran told her hesitantly with a glance in his direction. Merlin nodded for the boy to continue. “They looked like us, but some had dark skin and their clothes were strange.”
“There are people with much darker skin to the far south,” Merlin explained. “Not too long ago when we traded with the Romans you might have even seen one.” Merlin eased himself down onto the ground next to Bran and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath.”
“Do you think he saw something in the distance?” Morgana asked as she stepped back, allowing Gofiben to shift closer to his friend.
“Perhaps,” Merlin replied. He hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “I’m afraid that I cannot see the use of such a vision to us at this time.”
“Nothing’s wrong with him though right?” Gofiben questioned. The boy was looking between them and Bran with worried eyes.
“No, not at all. He hasn’t hit his head or eaten anything disagreeable,” Merlin assured both of the young men. “Thus I assume it to have been a magical vision, something that the flow of magic is sharing with you.”
“Do you have visions?” Bran asked. He slowly climbed to his feet while leaning on Gofiben for support.
“On occasion; in fact, I had a vision of the Iron Soul before Arto was born. It was magic’s way of informing me of my destiny.”
Given the way that Gofiben glanced towards Morgana who was lingering behind him, Merlin was fairly certain that she’d made a face at his words. She disliked the general notion that they had a destiny; her half-Sídhe nature was the result of the Queen’s plan rather than a natural or unnatural occurrence of birth like his own. Still, the discovery of Gofiben had brought a spark back to her that he was grateful for. Reaching down Merlin picked up Cathanáil and secured the sword in its sheath once more. Gofiben’s eyes lingered on it and Merlin knew that the boy had to be wondering when they’d hand the sword over to him now that he’d summoned his magic away from his forge.
“I think we’ve done more than enough for the day,” Merlin announced as he stretched out his arms. “I know that you all have chores in the village.”
“Yes, in the village that is now unsure of us all,” Galath remarked as he strode over to his brother. He gave Bran a look over and nodded in satisfaction that he was alright. “You both look tired.”
“A bit,” Gofiben agreed with a grin. “But I also feel energized like I could work at the forge for hours without rest.”
“Well take it easy, but I’m sure the villagers would be glad to have the backorders filled soon,” Galath teased with a softening look.
Gofiben jostled his brother’s shoulder as he and Bran followed Morgana up the slope of the valley. Galath fell into step behind them, keeping an eye on Bran who was shakier on his feet than he probably wanted them to notice. As he followed them up the slope and the young men started talking about the things that needed to be done in the village Merlin found himself wondering about Bran’s vision. It was an odd thing and he couldn’t see the value in it, but he supposed that in time things might become clearer. Magic had its own reasons and ways.
They reached the village far too soon for Merlin’s taste, and he forced himself to nod in greeting to the solitary guard at the gates. In return the man glared at him, but pulled open the right side of the gate to let them enter. People were moving about, but they gave the group distance. Gofiben nodded and waved to a few people who acknowledged him with quick looks before rushing off. Thankfully the lad had been protected from the fallout at least a little bit as the local blacksmith. In a small village like this they couldn’t afford him being angry. The village was roughly half the size it had been before the attack. Several of the original roundhouses were still standing with five new ones having been recently completed. Only some of the fencing had been repaired and the empty spaces where homes used to stand had become communal work yards.
“Do you ever miss the reverent looks?” Morgana asked. They watched Gofiben go over to the doorway of a nearby roundhouse to speak with an older man.
“More and more each day,” Merlin admitted with a sigh as a woman tugged her child away from them. “Reminds me a little too much of when I was a child.”
Morgana gave him a sympathetic look; his half-Sídhe heritage had been well known in his home village and it had only been his mother’s status as a priestess that kept him safe until he was an adult. Most people still didn’t know that Morgana was half-Sídhe, though he imagined that the longer their lives went the more rumors would be born about them both. He sighed and shook his head, looking towards Gofiben’s roundhouse as the three young men spread out into the village to talk with the locals. Merlin jumped as Morgana suddenly reached over and tugged on the straps holding Cathanáil in place.
“Morgana, what are you doing?”
“Just checking,” she replied. Crossing her arms over her chest, Morgana glanced back towards Gofiben. “Are we doing right by him? Is this really the right thing?”
“He has to be trained-”
“But he’s twenty-two years old and his magic hasn’t caused any problems; maybe it never would have,” Morgana protested and she looked towards the young man in question. “He’s just…”
“He’s not Arto, Morgan.” Me
rlin reached over to touch her shoulder. “You accepted Arto’s destiny.”
“Not really,” Morgana informed him with a dangerously arched eyebrow. “But by the time I was part of his life again he’d accepted his destiny.”
Sighing, Merlin nodded in vague agreement with her statement. He dropped his hand to his side and looked over to where Gofiben was collecting a basket of produce with a smile and talking animatedly to one of the local warriors. The boy certainly had a talent with people as he watched the distrust melting away. A shout from the gates made them both turn sharply and Merlin summoned his magic on reflex. Green magic swirled around his hand as he and Morgana rushed down the path.
People were shouting and the locals were gathering in curiosity rather than fear as they reached the gates. Merlin released his magic carefully before it could draw any attention. The gate was pushed open and the guard appeared with an unfamiliar man that he half carried and half dragged into the village. He was roughly forty with dusty gray hair and wide, almost wild brown eyes. All of his limbs were shaking and he jumped back when a woman stepped forward to offer him some water. Then he recovered enough to grab the water skin and empty it half into his mouth and half over his face. Another person draped a blanket around the man’s shaking shoulders.
“What happened to you?” Someone in the crowd asked and Merlin vaguely realized that people were crowding in around him and Morgana, seeming to have forgotten their fears.
“Did someone attack your village?” Another voice called from further back.
“Are you alone?” Yet another person demanded with a gruff tone in their voice.
“The goddess Badb,” the man cried. Curling his legs against his chest, he tightened the blanket around his shoulders. He either ignored or didn’t hear Morgana’s snort of derision. “She came to my village and unleashed a plague upon us.”
Many people in the crowd drew back quickly at the words which allowed Merlin to slip forward. In the corner of his eye he saw most of the crowd retreating to their homes and pulling their children in after them. Kneeling down next to the man, Merlin studied him carefully and frowned. The man looked fairly healthy, excepting his exhaustion from fleeing from whatever Badb had done.
“What happened exactly?” Merlin asked. “You don’t look ill.”
“No one did.” The man looked between Merlin and Morgana. “It was a dark red fog; it filled the village and made everyone ill. It hung over them, their veins turned dark red,” he insisted frantically as he gestured towards the blue veins in his arms. “I was out moving livestock most of the time so I wasn’t as affected as the rest. When the others started dying we left, started walking.” He shuddered and dry heaved for a moment, making pained sounds. “The others started to drop dead; I’m the only one left.”
“Get him out of the village,” a voice hissed behind them. Merlin turned to see a man poking his head out of his roundhouse with dark angry eyes glaring at them. “Get him out of here; we’ve suffered enough of late. We don’t need the goddess’s wrath on us anymore.” He narrowed his eyes on Merlin. “You’ve brought doom on us Merlin.”
“He can stay in my roundhouse,” Galath offered. He crossed his arms and studying the man. “With all of you Gofiben’s home is getting too full.”
“Thank you brother,” Gofiben replied.
Bran clasped Gofiben’s shoulder, and Merlin noted that the smith looked ill. Inwardly he sighed in frustration. It seemed that Badb had decided on a new course of action and that the question of if Gofiben and Bran were ready had been taken out of their hands.
19
Fishguard
“So is this going to be a new thing?” Lance asked. The bus lurched forward out of the small Haverfordwest bus station. For a moment Alex was blinded by the low-rising sun before they turned and began heading north out of the city. “Us leaving as soon as we get somewhere?”
“We didn’t have much of a choice,” Nicki said with a smug little smile. “We’re just lucky we were able to catch the 8:22 bus north.”
“Still, I would have liked more than a muffin from a coffee shop to eat,” Lance countered. He looked a bit put out. “We could have at least hit a supermarket first.”
“I’m not sure where we could have found one,” Jenny said. She gave his arm a soft pat that made his entire body relax. “Not unless we wanted to explore the whole town.”
“Yeah, the whole town of 13,000 people,” Alex countered with a chuckle.
At least there was a very convenient bus system that could get them north in less than an hour, Alex reminded herself. None of them could rent a car here, so they were limited to the public transportation options. They were the only large group on the bus and had taken over the back couple of rows. An older woman was sitting near the front with some shopping bags and chatting with the driver. Two guys a little older than them were slumped near each other in the middle of the bus texting away with their phones.
The whole bus was fairly cold even though she could hear the heater running full speed at the front. At least it wasn’t as cold inside as it was outside and the roads were clear of ice and snow. Alex glanced out the window at the rolling hills of Wales and wondered what it looked like in the spring and summer. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground, but it was so slight that Alex with her northwestern USA upbringing almost hesitated to call it such. Brown patches of grass were peeking through and the trees were bare against the gray sky. Scattered across the landscape were farmhouses, beautiful short stone walls, and pastures of sheep. Everything seemed peaceful and tranquil.
“We can eat when we get to Fishguard,” Lance agreed. “It’ll only be a little after nine when we get there. Should we get a place to stay for the night?”
“Yeah…” Alex agreed tentatively. “Just to make sure that we have a roof over our head.”
“Probably,” Bran agreed. “Even if I have another vision, we’ll need to see if we can narrow it down some.” He toyed with a tear in the fabric cover of his chair nervously. “And maybe if we do find a market or something I should look around for a small mirror. Morgana didn’t have much of a chance to teach me how to scry, but I could give it a try.”
“Doesn’t she use that bronze disk though?” Nicki asked. She was absentmindedly braiding a small section of her red hair.
“Yeah, but I haven’t got anything like that.” Bran shrugged. “Maybe it will help me control the visions a bit more.”
“Speaking of Morgana and scrying,” Alex interjected. “Maybe Morgana’s had some luck scrying for the skull,” she suggested with a smile and held out her hand. “Jenny, can I borrow your phone?”
“International right?” Jenny asked. Shaking her head, she handed it over with a resigned sigh. “I’m tempted to submit a bill to the Professors for the expenses. At this rate, my dad isn’t going to let me go shopping for at least a year.”
“Give it a shot,” Nicki suggested with a mischievous look. “They’re pretty smart immortals who keep savings and investments, they can probably cover it.”
“They do fake their deaths routinely,” Bran said. Jenny pressed her lips together in consideration making Bran chuckle. “I always imagined it as being very orderly.”
“Sounds lonely to me,” Jenny said softly.
“At least they have each other.” Alex thought back to the recent conversation she’d had with Morgana. “But yeah, I think it gets a bit lonely.”
Alex entered in Morgana’s phone number, a bit surprised that she could remember it. The phone rang and with a glance at the other passengers, Alex set it on speakerphone as the others awkwardly leaned in.
It rang twice before Morgana’s voice answered calmly, “Professor Cornwall.”
“Morgana it’s me, I’m on Jenny’s phone,” she explained quickly. “I called to see if you’ve had any luck with your scrying?” Alex glanced around, but none of the other passengers paid her any mind.
“Where are you, kids?” Morgana asked.
“We ju
st left this town called Haverfordwest in Wales,” Alex said. “We’re on our way north towards uh… Fishguard Harbor. Bran had a vision of seeing the ocean in the north so we thought-”
“Yes, Gofiben’s village was in the north of modern Pembrokeshire. Why didn’t you head there from the start? That’s where Pembrokeshire Park is.”
“Uh, Morgana the national park curves around the whole coast,” Bran informed her dryly. “Sure the north part is the biggest section, but you didn’t really narrow it down much for us.”