Chapter Text
Caledonian Highlands 195 AD
The trail leading through the pass between the mountains was narrow, steep, and challenging to traverse in the best of weather. This was not the best of weather. It had been raining for six days straight and the trail was slick with mud and loosened rocks. Merlin had crossed the pass two weeks earlier, and while it had been thick with frost, the journey hadn’t been too difficult. He hadn’t particularly wanted to travel by himself, but Arthur had been needed to deal with a diplomatic issue between two of the neighbouring villages and hadn’t been able to come right away.
Part of Merlin had been relieved. Eight years ago, Arthur’s wife had died giving birth to his second son, Trevor. Merlin had not yet found Arthur then, but the lingering sadness in his companion’s heart even years later was painful to see. When Merlin was finally reunited with his other half, he had spent more time attending to the health of young women with child than he could have ever possibly imagined. He was a fairly skilled healer, trained in both magical and mundane methods, but he was no midwife.
Still, when the news arrived that Arthur’s only daughter, newly married last spring, was due to give birth in early March, he hadn’t been surprised that Arthur had insisted he be there to attend her. Efa had been the light of Arthur’s world after Elin died and she was a genuinely sweet and caring person. It had hurt Merlin to find Arthur so late this time, but he couldn’t bring himself to be jealous of the family and life his other half had made. His children were everything one could want and his eldest son had the makings of a fine clan leader when the time was right. In some ways, it would be a relief that in a few years his youngest would be grown enough to begin an apprenticeship and Arthur and Merlin might be more at liberty than they had ever been in previous lives. Free to pursue what they wished without the weight of familial expectation upon them. He doubted he would get his lover back this time, but that didn’t matter. He was just happy they were together again. The search had been long and frustrating and he had all but given up hope, when he had quite literally stumbled across Arthur hunting in the woods some four years past.
Thinking of the day he found Arthur made him smile, but it faded again quickly in the face of more rain and the sight of a mudslide ahead of him. Arthur was days late in arriving. Efa had given birth to a perfectly healthy baby boy three days ago, and Merlin was surprised Arthur hadn’t yet arrived. His business with the other villages should have taken him a week at most, and the journey to Efa’s new home with Greid took three days, even taking into account the slow going of the mountain trails. Merlin was worried, so he had packed his things and made his excuses before setting off on the road home.
Seeing the condition of the path ahead only added fuel to his concerns. He dismounted and carefully led his horse along the slick path, picking his way around a few fallen rocks that hadn’t been there two weeks ago and keeping his eyes sharp for more debris letting go after being loosened by days and days of rain. Once on the homeward side of the mountain, he could see the mudslide had been worse here, with the trail nearly obscured. His horse whickered nervously and then, to his startled surprise and worst fears, he heard an answering whinny of distress from further down the path.
Merlin moved as swiftly as he dared across the treacherous ground, giving his horse more freedom to choose her own steps as he struggled to find his own footing in the slick mess. Rounding the corner of a switchback, his heart stuck in his throat when he saw Arthur’s saddled bay mare, prancing and whinnying nervously, trapped in a short span of trail between a substantial fallen rock and an impassable river of mud, with no rider in sight.
“Arthur!? Are you there Arthur? Can you hear me?” he shouted frantically, but there was no response.
Raising his hand, Merlin took a steady, calming breath before drawing on his magic. “Delf sudra.”
The sodden earth in his way began to part until the path was open enough to allow the horse to bolt towards him. Merlin let go of the reins of his own mount, casting a quick spell to block the path beyond the switchback, and grabbed the lines trailing on the ground from Arthur’s horse. For a moment the mare’s eyes rolled and it squealed with fear at being restrained again, but quickly she settled under his calming hands and gentle voice. “Hush now, hush. Where’s Arthur then? What’s happened?”
When the horse settled and stopped throwing its head and flicking its ears, Merlin let it join his horse on the more stable path behind him and ventured forward. The slope of the hill was steep here and several trees appeared to have been uprooted in the slide. Casting a look downwards, he could see the mess of mud, branches and rock that cut a swath through the forest below. There was a drop of about forty feet before it levelled out again and near the bottom there was a flash of red amongst the chaos below.
“Arthur!” he called again, but there was no reply. There was also no safe way for him to get down there.
It was difficult to see clearly, his eyes blurry with rain and tears, but as carefully as he could, he used his magic to lift the muddy figure of a man from the disaster below. As Arthur came more clearly into view, he looked like a child’s tattered rag doll, limp and lifeless. There was no good place on this narrow trail to set him down; Merlin flung the rock blocking the rest of the path deep into the forest below, in his despair not caring particularly where it landed. A short ways ahead, the narrow path widened, and Merlin guided Arthur’s suspended body carefully down to a sheltered spot beneath an undamaged tree. When his battered form was laid on the ground, Arthur gave a low, pained moan.
Merlin frantically knuckled the moisture from his eyes, and knelt down beside Arthur. “Can you hear me? Arthur? Please! Arthur!”
He groaned again, and then quietly croaked, “Merlin?”
“Yes. I’m here. What happened?” Merlin asked, taking the sodden scarf at his throat, warming it and gently wiping away the dirt on Arthur’s face.
Arthur winced at the touch, but cracked a swollen eye to look at him. “Hillside gave way. Horse spooked. Thrown.”
“How long have you been down there?”
“Not sure. Two days?”
“Two days?!” Merlin gasped, fumbling with the clasp of his cloak and covering Arthur with it. “You must be frozen. I’ll get you warm and have a look at what you’ve injured in your fall.”
“Don’t,” Arthur said in a harsh whisper.
Merlin looked down at him, blinking through tears. “What?”
Arthur seemed to struggle for breath and shook his head. “I think... my back... my legs won’t move... arms are... not right either.” He was starting to pant heavily from the effort of speaking, but kept forcing words out. “Breathing is... worse... You can’t fix-”
“-Yes, I can! I will!”
“I’m dying.”
“No! I won’t lose you again! I’ve only just found you, and I can’t lose you. Not now!” Merlin shouted frantically, hands grabbing at Arthur’s shoulders.
“Again?” Arthur asked weakly.
“And again, and again. It’s more than I can bear, and yet every time I have to watch you die. Hold you as you leave me. And when I finally find you again, you won’t remember a damn thing, and I won’t be able to forget!” he shouted slightly hysterically.
“You’ve... seen me die?”
“Five times before. It hurts like someone ripping my own heart out of my chest every damn time!”
“How?”
Merlin shook his head. “You are destined never to remember our past... and I don’t suppose I’ve ever been brave enough to tell you about it before. We’ve always been together, for centuries. There’s always a warrior and a warlock.”
The pained expression on Arthur’s face lifted somewhat and he attempted a small curving of his lips. “You knew me.”
“Yes. I had such a hard time finding you, but I knew you the second I saw you.”
“I don’t...” Arthur shook his head.
“You never do. You never remember and I’m cursed to never forget.”
“I’ll... try harder... this time...”
“I can heal you!”
“I know... can’t fix... broken back...”
“I can try,” Merlin said angrily and summoned his magic, but he found himself too strung out emotionally to even attempt to bend it to his will.
Arthur struggled to move one of his arms and managed to lift it enough to grab at Merlin’s hand. “It’s too late.”
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered brokenly.
“You said... I’ll be back,” Arthur said with a pained smile. “I’ll try... remembering this time.”
“You never do,” Merlin whispered morosely.
“You’ve never... told me... before...”
“Please!”
“Take care... of... yourself...” Arthur forced the words out through gasping breaths that rattled and gurgled deep in his chest.
“Please! I... I...”
“I know... I... do too...” he spoke softly, breath barely moving past his lips. With a scarcely audible sigh, he whispered, “Merlin,” then spoke no more.
“Noooooooo!” The agonizing pain tore through his entire body, as Merlin felt his other half being separated from him, leaving him.
He clutched tightly to the broken, empty shell before him, but nothing could soothe the anguish he felt. They had failed, again. Whatever it was the Gods were trying to get them to accomplish, they had failed. He was alone, half a man, once more. The rain continued to fall, mixing with the tears that streamed down his face as he wailed his pain to the uncaring sky.
Weep by ~ReniMilchstrasse on deviantART
Camelot, 550 AD
The face he wore today was not his own, but was perhaps more familiar to him. After years of wandering from place to place offering what wisdom and skill he could the various lines, wrinkles, and age spots as well as the slightly wild hair and beard streaked with grey were like a well worn shirt -comfortable to wear, if not particularly attractive. Vanity wasn’t something he had suffered from in quite a long time, though repeatedly going through the awkward adolescent years was enough to test anyone’s self consciousness. The prospect of going through it all over again was less than thrilling, but his relief that the long wait was over more than compensated for any inconveniences in the near future. Wearing his true face, he would seem to be a man in the prime of his life, not older than his mid-thirties, but the mask he wore was closer to how he felt most days. Not beaten down with infirmity, but aging and weary.
And he was weary of this life. It had been three and a half centuries since he had felt truly alive, since his other half had died in his arms, and the wait had seemed interminable. However, the thrumming undercurrent of life and exuberance had begun nearly two years ago and grown stronger until he arrived here. Camelot. He had roamed the surrounding countryside for over a decade, learning what he could about the land as he sensed the time was approaching. Shortly after he arrived from further north, Uther Pendragon had ascended to the throne and waged several military campaigns to secure his rule before settling into marriage.
Several years passed, and still he had wandered through Camelot and the surrounding kingdoms until the thrill of energy he always associated with his other half pulled him towards the castle. On his first visit, the town was abuzz with the news that, after years of waiting, Queen Ygraine was expecting a child. He had passed through the castle gates and when he walked the corridors nearest the royal residence, his heart sang. In previous lives, reasonable certainty of a time and place were all he checked for before he made arrangements for his own rebirth, but something had held him back. He came and went from the town several times during the months that followed, savouring the joyful thrill of life that crept into his heart each time he was near, but also sensing that something was not as it should be. When the queen died in childbirth, the sizzling joy that danced on his skin was not enough to dispel the deep sense of foreboding that dwelled at the bottom of his stomach.
The actions of the grief ridden Uther were swift and terrible. All magic users were first banished, then imprisoned and, after less than a month from the first decree of the ban on magic, the executions began. Though he knew it was not yet his time to be an active participant, as events unfolded it was difficult to stand by and watch, yet impossible to leave. He had no idea where he could be born again that would be safe and yet tie him to Camelot in some way that would ensure his return, preferably peacefully, within fifteen to twenty years. He spent weeks searching for someone who could provide a suitable link and could be trusted. It was late one night while slipping past the door of the Court Physician that he found his opportunity.
“I tell you, Gauis, once Kilgharrah has been subdued, the Dragonlords will go the same way as the rest. I don’t trust the king any longer. I see the disdain in his eyes each time I am near him. He views us the same as any mage, sorcerer or druid,” a gruff voice said in a low, angry tone.
A softer, gentle voice replied, “Then you need to make plans for your departure. Have you any place you might go?”
“I’ve heard through various sources that my village was burnt to the ground a week ago. Even if this is untrue, my parents died years ago. I’ve lived within the borders of Camelot all my life. Where should I go? Ouch!” the first voice growled.
“Hold still,” the second admonished, and for a moment the tone and inflection made the voice sound oddly familiar, “I can’t bandage this if you keep moving.”
“Six months ago, you would have healed this enough that it wouldn’t require bandaging.”
“I swore an oath to Uther that I would not use the Old Ways in my practice. I know you disagree with my decision, but science based healing and medicine is better than none at all. I know the physicians of the other courts and I’m certain none with any skill would dare enter Camelot at this time. Given my options, I think it’s the best choice.”
“And you will sit back and watch as the others, those that aren’t lucky enough to have royal favour, are rounded up and killed?”
“I cannot change the king’s mind. His grief has made him deaf to all arguments on the subject.”
“You could help them escape!”
“Not all of them, Balinor,” the voice came as a sorrowful whisper, “I will do what I can, for those I can, but you know as well as I that saving everyone is impossible.”
The rough voice was soft with regret. “Will you help me?”
“Of course.”
“Where should I go? The druid encampments? Mercia? Someplace further? How can I start again in some place I have no connections with?”
As he listened to the gruff voice soften and occasionally crack with sadness, he felt compassion for the man. He had spent centuries wandering alone, starting new in places he had no link to, or if there had been a connection to the place it was long passed and he could not reveal it. It was a lonely life to lead, even if you weren’t missing your other half, as he was.
“I have an aunt,” the familiar voice said slowly, “who lives in a small village just beyond the border of Cenred’s land. I haven’t seen her in some years, but my aunt is both kind-hearted and stubborn. I’m certain she’d take you in and help you get on your feet again. Though it’s close to the border, I doubt Uther is prepared for the diplomatic difficulties that following someone there would bring.”
There was a long pause before Balinor replied, “I wouldn’t want to bring trouble upon your kin. It would be dangerous both to her and the village if I were to go there.”
“Think on it. There is still some time.”
“Some time, but not much. A week, perhaps two. I don’t know why I’m even doing this anymore.”
“Because you are a man of your word, just as I am.”
“You’re a good man, Gaius. Don’t mind my anger. It’s not directed at you, really.”
“I know. I have my own frustrations. I find grinding herbs for poultices helps to soothe them.”
Both men gave a small, low chuckle. “Yes, and I suppose I had best stick to taking mine out on dragons.”
The sound of chairs scraping across stone made him jerk and jump back from the door. He darted into a nearby alcove and waited to catch a glimpse of the voices he had heard talking. A village with direct ties to the court physician at Camelot but lay beyond the border was the most promising situation he had come across yet, but he wanted to be sure his link was trustworthy. A tall, lean man of maybe twenty-five years with dark hair came through the door first, followed by a slightly shorter, more sturdily built man who looked closer to forty with mousy hair already liberally peppered with silver. The elder was at once familiar, though he couldn’t quite place the man.
The younger tugged at bit at the bandage on his right arm and gave a half smile. “Thank you for patching me up, Gaius.”
“Get some rest. I would tell you to avoid strenuous activity for a day or two if I thought it would do any good.”
“You know me too well.”
“Goodnight.”
The lanky man nodded and stalked off down the corridor swiftly and silently. The older man watched him retreat, worry and sadness furrowing his brow. With a clear view, he recognized Gaius as a young physician he had met nearly fifteen years previously, newly finished his apprenticeship and eager to prove his skill. He had encountered the man working in the border villages where he met with druids to increase his knowledge of magical healing arts. He had spoken with Gaius several times over the span of a month and liked the man despite his youthful impulsiveness. Gaius seemed to have matured, but maintained the compassion and concern he had appreciated in those early days. Perhaps their meeting years ago had not been chance. Resolving to return the following evening, he disappeared through the dark corridors to make some final preparations.
It wasn’t quite so late when he returned the following evening, but the hallways were empty and the castle still. As a precaution, he placed a protective enchantment along this stretch of corridor to ensure he had complete privacy for his meeting with Gaius. He was fairly certain he could trust the court physician, but it would not do for any eavesdroppers to overhear their conversation just as he had done the previous evening. Raising his hand to knock, he looked at the lines and age spots on his weathered looking hands and crooked a small smile. Even in a body stuck at thirty-five, he felt the aches and pains of increased age. Starting over was always difficult, but it had its perks. The next time he returned here he would be a fresh-faced young lad again and nostalgia was good at blurring the less pleasant realities of going through youth again. He still wished to see his other half before he left, but it pleased him to think of them both in young bodies again. With a smile still playing at his lips, he knocked on the door.
It swung open to reveal the politely curious face of Gaius. “Yes. Can I help you?”
His smile unconsciously grew wider. “Gaius. You’re looking well.”
“Do I..?” The physician asked, a puzzled expression crossing his countenance before it cleared and his eyebrows rose. “I know you.”
“Yes, we met some years ago.”
“You were with the...” he trailed off, then pulled the door wider saying, “You had best come in.”
Entering the room, he was offered a chair. Gaius closed the door firmly and took the other chair, staring at him in surprise. “I must say, I never imagined I would see you again, especially not here.”
“It is curious the directions life pulls you in. Have you enjoyed your practice here?”
“I have had excellent resources both for my medical work as well as my experiments. I can’t complain.”
“And recent events? You are safe?”
“Safer than most, I expect. The king needs a physician at court and we have known each other for some time. I gave him my word I would practice only scientific healing arts and he has given me his assurance that my previous studies will be overlooked. The situation grieves me, but for my part it is not a particular hardship. My interests were always more academic than practical given the limits of my talent.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“And you give me too much. You may have concealed the true extent of your abilities from me, but I am no fool. I remember what the others called you when you weren’t around. I do have some idea what that means.”
“I would rather they hadn’t. I am far more content to be just Mael.”
“I can understand that. What I don’t understand is why you are here.”
“I’ve come to ask a favour.”
Gaius looked at him suspiciously. “What sort of favour? I will do nothing that breaks my oath to the king.”
He shook his head. “Not as such. I have a book, a very old book, of great importance. I need a place to conceal it where it might be protected.”
“Why are you asking me? And here, of all places?”
“Because very soon I will not be in a position to care for it anymore.” He drew a large, red, leather bound book from his satchel. “Did I ever show this to you?”
Gaius nodded. “It was your constant reference. What would make you leave this behind?”
“There is another who will be in great need of it, but I will not be able to bestow it upon him myself. I have given great consideration to my options, and you are my only guarantee that he will receive it, undamaged, when the time is right,” he said gravely.
“You’re leaving,” Gaius stated simply.
He nodded. “It is time.”
“How will I know who to give it to?”
“I cannot be certain of the details, but ten to twenty years from now a young man will arrive in Camelot in need of your help. He will be coming to you; because you are the only person he can trust who has the skills needed to assist him. Give him the book and help him learn to control and refine his talent.”
“I’m supposed to do this here? In Camelot?” Gaius blurted in disbelief.
He nodded. “I know it is a dangerous thing I am asking of you. If you will do nothing else, can you ensure he receives the book and has the ability to read it?”
Gaius stared at him for a long time before reaching out to accept the book. “I do not know what the years ahead will bring, but I do not think Uther will turn from the path he is on now. He is a prideful man and has lost much. I will give such assistance as I am able to this boy, but I can promise nothing more certain than the safe delivery of the book and my silence about his abilities.”
“I would not ask you to make grand promises you might be unable to keep.”
“Where will you go, Mael?”
“The best place that could be arranged in such times.”
“The boy... will he be...?”
He rose and placed his right hand upon Gaius’ head. “When the time is right, you will know. Until then, take care of that book and remember only what is essential.”
His eyes flared golden and Gaius slumped forward in his chair. After a moment, the physician blinked several times and smiled slightly inanely up at him. “It was nice to visit with you old friend.”
“Likewise, Gaius. Take care.” In a blur of robes, he turned and left the room quickly. There was one last important task to complete before his departure.
The nursery was the most lavish room he had seen in the castle and also the warmest. Spring’s chill still clung to the castle like a damp shirt, but the infant prince’s room was cosy and draft free. The hour was quite late, and the guards outside the door had been drowsy already. It was a simple matter of suggestion more than actual spells that left them snoring softly as they dozed propped up against the wall outside the door. The wet nurse was sleeping in the small antechamber inside the nursery, though he did send the woman deeper into sleep and barred the door to give himself complete privacy.
Approaching the crib, he dropped his disguise and felt energy dance across his skin and ruffle his hair. He had never experienced this before. He had always cast off the shell of his previous life before his other half was born anew, but this time was different. It felt to him that there was a great deal more at stake this time. A cherub’s face with wide blue eyes looked up at him from the crib. Tentatively he reached a hand towards the babe and a tiny hand reached up and clasped his finger. His body jerked with the jolt of pure sensation and joy that coursed through him at the contact. The baby smiled a wide toothless grin and waved chubby arms to be picked up. He found himself grinning as well and carefully lifted the squirming child into his arms.
“You are going to be the terror of the castle with a smile like that. Even if you weren’t the prince, no one would be able to deny you anything,” he whispered softly. The baby gave a soft giggle and made a grab for his nose. He shifted the bundle slightly and traced a finger across the soft rounded cheek glowing golden in the dim light of the few candles he had lit. “You are going to be on your own for a while and no one is left around here that can protect you the way you need to be protected. Uther has made a rash and ill considered choice in banishing magic. Already he has made many enemies. That’s why I waited. I needed to make sure you were safe before I can join you again. Of course, you won’t remember this... or anything from before. I’ve often thought yours is the blessing, to never remember as I do. It was a long and lonely wait this time, but perhaps that makes finding you again all the sweeter.”
He dug into his satchel and retrieved a small bottle of sandalwood oil he had liberated from Gaius’ stores and used several drops of the aromatic substance to anoint the child’s forehead. He corked the bottle and slipped it back into his bag then used his thumb to work the oil into the skin. He spoke softly. “Beorg fram feorhbealu ac thā frecne scinncræftas. Grow with strength and wisdom and do not let darkness taint your soul. When I return, I will be able to offer you greater protection than this, but until then, be safe.”
He dropped a brief kiss on the baby’s brow and felt a small hand pat his cheek before he pulled away and returned the bundle in his arms to the crib. The child cooed softly as he fussed with the covers and made sure there was no sign that he had been there. He smiled fondly at the wide eyed infant, brushing the petal soft skin of the rounded cheek one last time before turning to leave. He unbarred the nurse’s door and checked on the sleeping guards in the corridor before glancing back into the room. As he silently shut the door, he whispered once more, “Be safe, Arthur.”
Balinor’s prediction had been all too accurate. Three days after his clandestine visit to place protective spells upon the prince, the castle erupted with the noise of celebration. He watched from his hiding spot near the physician’s quarters as Gaius hurried from the room nervously carrying a haphazardly assembled bundle of supplies. Following silently, he moved with speed through the corridors and across the crowded courtyard into the lower town. Gaius ducked down back alleys, backtracking several times before knocking on the back door of a shabby, unassuming house. A blade appeared through the door first, but was soon lowered and Balinor’s dark head poked out through the opening. “Get inside.”
He remained concealed in the ally, but listened to the conversation inside with a particularly useful auditory enhancement spell.
“I overheard Uther speaking to the captain of the guard. The plan is to arrest you tonight while the city is occupied with the festivities. He means for your disappearance to be a secret. You must leave immediately.”
“I cannot say that I’m surprised. I’ve already prepared my things.”
“Here. Take this. There are provisions for a couple days and I’ve written a letter explaining things as best I can and asking Mererid for her assistance. Take my cob and ride west to the ford at Tineuur. Follow the north road out of town until it reaches the river and begins to turn east. If you cross the river there, you should find a reasonably serviceable trail heading west again. You pass the border shortly after crossing the river and Ealdor is about five miles beyond.”
“I won’t take your horse, Gaius.”
“You stand a better chance of escape on horseback than you would on foot. If you ride hard, you should be well passed Tineuur by nightfall. I scarcely leave the city anymore and when I have need the stables can provide me with a mount. If nothing else, my aunt would certainly appreciate the use of a horse; you can give it to her. Mererid is tall, for a woman, close to fifty and greying considerably. She also has a daughter, Hunith, who must be nearly twenty now. Her sons have already left home the last I heard. I do not know where you might find them if you cannot find Mererid, but should you encounter them their names are Caden and Trent.”
“Thank you, Gaius. I didn’t mean what I said to you the other night. If there were a way for me to stay safe and remain in my home, I would seize the chance as well.”
“You have every right to be angry. I hope you are able to find peace in Ealdor.”
“And you here. I know you have an agreement with the king, but do not become complacent. There may come a time when he turns on you as well.”
“I will be cautious. Farewell, Balinor.”
“Farewell, Gaius.”
Stepping back from the door, he slipped between the houses and watched as the hooded figure of Balinor moved cautiously out of the alley and was lost in the crowd of people gathered in the streets.
He made his own way towards the gates of the city, knowing the guard would already be instructed to prevent Balinor’s departure. When a study black cob lead by a man with his head bent approached, he ensured the guards were thoroughly distracted by a noisy dog fight breaking out on the street near some small children. Several of the gate keepers moved to intercept the dogs and the two that remained were focussed on the excitement in the street. He gave a slightly derisive snort at how easy Camelot’s protectors were to distract and cast a long glance back at the castle. He had done his best. It was time to leave. When he turned back to the city gates, the black horse and its rider were already halfway across the open fields and far enough to be anonymous to the casual observer. Intending to lay a second, more obvious trail to throw off the inevitable search party, he passed unnoticed through the gates and turned east.
The trail he had made worked exactly as intended and he was reasonably certain Uther’s men believed Balinor had made his way to Mercia to seek protection from Lord Bayard. It took him another ten days to make his way slowly to Ealdor. Not only was he travelling on foot, but each step that took him farther away from the castle was wrenching to his very core. Holding Arthur had been an exultant moment of joy and peace that had stripped away all the painful years of his wait. Now he was bent and aching, feeling every minute his age.
The small village of Ealdor was much the same as any other place in the surrounding countryside. There was a small collection of shabby houses and barns clustered together at the centre of an open expanse of freshly tilled fields waiting to be sown as soon as the weather turned fair. There were fenced-in pastures and small plots for vegetables nearest the buildings, and at the bottom of the slope beyond a good sized stream ran southwest towards a thickly wooded area. It didn’t look like the most prosperous of small villages, but the land seemed adequate to support the hundred or so people who lived there.
For several weeks he observed the people there as a shadow in the night, learning that Balinor had arrived to find Mererid had died of a fever early in the winter and only Hunith remained of Gaius’ family. None of the villagers had travelled anyplace close enough to Camelot to relay the message to Gaius. However, Hunith, as generous and determined as her mother, had taken the rough looking stranger into her home, much to the consternation of the other villagers. It wasn’t that he shirked at hard labour or was unkind to anyone. He spent long hours with the other men in the village tending to damaged fences, working the soil, gathering wood and occasionally hunting, but there was an uncomfortable air about him that put the others on edge. It was also obvious to anyone who looked, which was everyone, that young Hunith, all on her own the poor dear, was positively smitten with the solemn stranger.
As Beltane approached, he knew he could postpone no longer. His watching made the circumstances of his new life obvious, though it didn’t entirely please him. He had hoped to be born to mundane couple, preferably a part of Gaius’ extended family, keeping his own considerable magic, which had been difficult enough to contain the last time, but gaining no more. It was a fine idea, but not to be. He fervently hoped Balinor would remain safely hidden here, because Hunith appeared to be the only viable option. There was a wildness about Balinor’s magic he was certain would be added to his own. He would need Balinor there to help him in the early years to gain the control needed until he could train properly again.
The fires burned high in the fallow pasture where the community was gathered to celebrate. Grinning impishly as only a young woman can, Hunith took Balinor’s hand and encouraged him to jump across the fire with her. Many villagers shook their heads and tutted, but a few smiled fondly as the normally dour man laughed freely, leapt across the dancing flames and swept the smiling young woman into his arms, carrying her back towards the houses.
Within the trees at the edge of the field, he nodded slowly to himself and turned away from the merriment below. He had rid himself of everything but the tattered robe he wore and it was time. Lying down on the soft, wet ground between the trees, he could see the small pinpricks of light from the stars through the spring leaves. Everything up to this point had been difficult and filled with doubt, but this... this was easy. Decision made, he embraced the rippling energy of the night and cast off the shell of his previous life. Now nothing more than magic and consciousness, he found the sensation was both disorienting and liberating. His essence rose on the night air and swept past the revellers in the field, drawn as a moth to flame towards the darkened houses of the village. The Dragonlord’s wild magic sang to his strong, yet disciplined core and drew him nearer. In the last moment of clear consciousness he had, he spared a thought for his other half, then allowed himself to be lost in the swirling maelstrom of wild magic, and was gone.
