Forward

Our adventures began before we were actually born. Way before Arthur, since he’s two years younger then the rest of us. It began before it, but I’ll begin this story on that fateful night. It was on a cold, foggy and dismal day, in the Crescent Forest….

The Bloody Mist

The mist blocked out all view, and would have been impossible to travel through, if it hadn’t been mysteriously swept away so that an small group of people could pass through undetected. Or so they thought.

They were a small band of archers and three cloaked riders. There were two people in the front, who lead the small party, one on the side, and one in the back, who kept glancing back every now and then as if to be sure no one was following them. Her eyes, sea green, like a deep lake, darted back and forth. Her hair, neatly tucked into the hood of her cloak, was a red-gold that always caught the sun light, even in the darkest waters of her realm. The lady on the side had curly brown hair, so dark, it could be mistaken for black. She had it in a long braid, woven with a dark green ribbon. A brown little pouch rested at her side, bouncing back and forth like a pendulum to the horse’s pace.

One of the riders in front, a man with brown, curly hair and a beard carried a staff carved with many intricate designs and runes. His face was weathered with many years of trials and pains. He rode a foggy colored stallion that blended well into their surroundings. His dark blue robe traveled all the way to the bottom of his feet when he was stood.

A woman with long silver hair rode on his left. Her dress was a dark wine color, her cloak a deep forest green to match her eyes causing them to stand out from the rest of her. Her feet, laced in brown boots, dangled down, no stirrups to catch them, as the lady used no saddle, only a bridle, on the white mare she rode. Hidden by the coverage of her big cloak, on either side of the saddle, were two black bundles.

A twig snapped, the woman’s eyes danced from side to side like a frightened deer. The band halted as the red-headed woman whirled her horse around, to see behind her. But there was nothing there. Slowly she turned her horse around to face the front and nodded. The band’s progress continued, just slightly swifter. A little while later, however, the fog no longer parted for them. Merlin turned concernedly towards the woman riding next to him, who’s face he could barely see anymore. Feeling his gaze upon her, she turned her eyes towards him. He nodded. She turned her horse around, and raised her hand to stop. The company halted, facing her.

“Archer’s circle.” she spoke.

A circle was made by the band, their front facing outwards. In a synchronized movement they drew the bows slung over their backs and strung them. Their arms tense, they seemed to wait for something.

They didn’t have to wait long. An arrow flew out of nowhere and landed a foot from the circle. The archers softly laughed, and the silver-haired woman couldn’t help smirking.

“They have sent their message”, she said, turning towards Merlin, who was still smiling.

“Shall I give them our reply?” The red-head asked grinning.

The other woman turned and winked at her. “You have the honors.”

The red-headed woman pulled back on the string of her bow and paused, furrowing her brow in concentration. “For Heartsure”, she whispered, then taking careful aim, she let fly her arrow, and quickly drew another arrow from her quiver, slung over her back. A scream followed the shot. She smiled grimly, and waited for the reply to her victory.

A small tidal wave of arrows erupted from all sides of the path. Arrows flew from both sides. Though hopelessly outnumbered, the defenders were determined and resolute. Whenever an archer fell, their trained battle horses dragged them to safety within the archer’s circle, and vice versa, and the defendants would have to tighten their circle. Though the archers were well trained, the opposing forces outnumbered the small band. Though without much hope, the band was insistent, and fought hard.

Soon the number of archers still shooting their arrows diminished, and many ran out of ammunition. When the silver-haired woman ran out of hers as well, she slung her bow across her back and drew a sword, hanging from the sides of her saddle.

“Halt fire!” she called out

To her right, Merlin sat on his horse, quickly thinking. Their enemy had known that they couldn’t have held out the army of arrows. They had just been tiring them out, playing with them, all the while knowing they would not withstand their army of fighters when they came. Only one mind could organize that kind of attack against such a small force. Merlin looked out into the mist, towards the area where the rain of fatal arrows had flown from, and there he saw their enemy’s commander, standing in the mist.

“Vivian!” he cried to the red-haired woman, “It’s Nimue!”

Vivian froze, and stared out at the fog in dismay, as it began to lift, confirming Merlin’s suspicion. Her face fell, and she released an anguished scream.

“Nimue!”

Lady Nimue stared back at Vivian, her beautiful earthen eyes cold. “Hello sister,” she said, her voice frosted like the day before winter. Her skin was pale, as if she were a spirit you could pass your hands through. As whispery and as dead as a leaf, ready to fall on an autumn day.

“Nimue, please..” Vivian began.

“Please what? Don’t beg for me to come back to you, sister,” she spat, “You’re the one who left me in the first place.”

Merlin moved his horse forward. “Nimue”, he paused, “You don’t have to do this to prove to Vivian or I that you are capable of being independent. You know who you are,” his words gentle but loud and clear, “You’re not meant to be this person you’ve become. Look at yourself Nimue, this isn’t you.”

“Merlin, you refused me 2 years ago. Don’t lecture or preach to me when you don’t even know me,” Lady Nimue retorted bitterly, “I’ve changed Merlin.”

“Yes,” he said, “Yes you have changed Nimue. Barron has taken over your mind. You don’t even know yourself anymore.”

“I have become more powerful than you ever will be,” she cried and, drawing herself up to full height, she pointed her finger at the wizard, and sent a bolt of blue fire towards him.

The silver-haired woman screamed, but Merlin blocked the bolt with a magic shield, and sent a fireball back towards the sorceress. The silver-haired lady yelled a challenge, and the battle began. The defenders raced in opposite directions cutting down at an army of black clothed people. Lady Vivian and the brown-haired woman fired round after round with their bows, their quivers never seemed to empty. The silver-haired woman avoided direct contact, maneuvering her horse from side to side, slicing her sword down, hacking at the warriors trying to cut her down from her horse. She was careful of her bundles, that now seemed to squirm, as if something alive were hidden inside of them. She constantly kept glancing with one eye at the bundles and at Merlin who now, having dismounted from his horse, was battling Lady Nimue in the center of the path.

“You’ll never be able to win, Merlin!” Nimue cried, throwing another flame at the wizard, “I will kill you!”

“And what will that accomplish, Nimue?” Merlin replied, deflecting the angry flame with his staff, “I’ll be dead, I wont regret saying ‘no’ to you. I’ve married a woman I could love, who I can trust!”

“She’s a witch!” Lady Nimue screeched

“And you’re not?”

“She was the enemy, she was the wife of HIM!”

“You and Barron are now no worse, and Vortimer is dead. Sevira helped us, she came over to our side and helped destroy Vortimer! You‘re full of bitterness, jealousy and prejudice!” Merlin yelled

“She’s playing with you!”

“No!”

“Yes Merlin, she just wants the child, then she can reclaim the throne for herself. She wont need you!”

“I won’t let you talk about her that way! You have no control or authority over me! You can’t persuade me to come to you by making up lies!” He paused, “Who do you think you are?”

“It’s the prophesy isn’t it Merlin?” she asked knowingly.

Merlin froze in the middle of sending a spell. Nimue had struck a nerve. “What?”

“You didn’t think I was good enough for you, or really that I wouldn’t give you a good enough child,” Nimue said accusingly, “When you married Sevira, you didn’t really love her, you were just analyzing her like an animal, breeding her,” Nimue said, nodding in the direction of the silver-haired woman.

Merlin turned towards Sevira, who was staring at them, obviously having heard the conversation. Her bloodied sword was held, raised in mid-strike, her face was contorted in anger, her eyes narrowed, but she was staring at Nimue.

“You witch!” she screamed.

Lady Nimue glanced at Merlin, who was staring at Sevira, a smile playing on his lips, obvious love in his eyes. Nimue’s cold heart grew angry and jealous watching him staring at the silver-haired woman.

“What you love best Merlin, is always destroyed!” she shouted, “You shall suffer for what you’ve done to me, and so shall she!” she screeched, throwing a purple fireball at Sevira. Merlin moved, but not fast enough, and although Sevira threw up her own defensive magic shield, the force of the bolt knocked her off her horse, causing her shield to disappear for less than moment, but enough time for a bit of the flame to hit her heart like a dart, and bury itself deep inside, like a worm.

“No!” Merlin yelled as she fell off the horse, the bit of flame still burying into her chest.

The bundles fell with her, one ending up on top of her, the other was saved just in time by the horse, who caught it with her mouth.

Vivian turned just in time to see it happen. Her face became shadowed and angry. She whirled her horse around, and before she could come to her senses, shot an arrow at her sister. The arrow flew true, and Lady Nimue didn’t sense it coming. It hit her side, and she doubled over in agony. The fighting stopped abruptly at the cry of her voice. All eyes turned to the scene in the center of the path. Merlin stared at Nimue as she gasped in pain. Her warriors flocked around to stand behind her. After several tries, she finally managed to stand straight up and say, “This isn’t over Merlin. We’ll meet again.”

A black horse was brought to her as she pulled the arrow out of her side and cried in pain. With the help of her warriors, she was boosted into the saddled, still doubled over in pain. She gasped, “I’ll kill you sister, one day I’ll kill you.” Then the fog closed in around them and they were gone.

Vivian stared off at the place they’d once been, then quickly vaulted off her horse, and ran to join Merlin, who was crouched down by Sevira.

“Is she alright?” Vivian asked in consternation

Merlin glanced up at her face, his eyes wet, as a single tear fell down it. It was the only time she’d ever, in her very long life, seen the wizard cry.

Sevira stirred and Vivian’s taught face relaxed a bit, as Merlin put his hand on Sevira to stay her from moving. Her eyes opened slowly.

“Emrys,” she gasped then coughed violently. Merlin placed his hand over her mouth to stop her from speaking. The coughing stopped, and he took his hand away from her mouth. Then they heard a baby crying. Sevira glanced around, saw the bundle cradle in her arm, and opened it a crack. There lay a beautiful brown-haired baby boy. Sevira cradled him and his crying stopped. She smiled. Then, all of a sudden, she looked around in panic. “Where’s Gwenivere?”

Vivian and Merlin looked behind themselves to see Sevira’s horse standing nearby, the other bundle dangling from her mouth. The brown-haired lady stood next to her. She was coaxing the mare to give up the bundle.

She murmured something soothingly to the horse, who, hearing, bent her head down, and placed the bundle in the lady’s arms. She smiled at the horse, then pushed aside the cloth, revealing a small face staring up at her and smiling. A little chubby hand poked out and pointed at the horse. The babe giggled, her eyes on the mare. The horse bent her head down and snuffled the babe, who laughed. The lady stared amazed at the baby, and turned around to Merlin and Sevira, surrounded by the remaining defenders.

“She…. laughed,” Vivian said staring disbelievingly at the baby. “All that, and she…. laughed.”

Everyone stared in amazement at little Gwenivere as the lady brought her over to her mother. Sevira took her in her other arm, staring amazed at her daughter, who, seeing the look on everyone’s face, giggled.

“Dey durty,” she giggled, then pointing to Sevira’s face, “Mommy durty.”

“She spoke!” Merlin exclaimed, “Only a month old and she spoke!”

“For love of the Goddess,” the brown-haired woman exclaimed, “She‘s your daughter!”

Merlin stared at Gwenivere, and then stretched out his hands to take her. He lifted her up, and cradled him in his arms. “My daughter,” he whispered, “Gwenivere.” The remainders of the warriors looked on at the scene unfolding before their eyes, the magic passing between father and daughter.

Suddenly, Sevira let out a loud, violent cough, her face contracted in pain. Vivien took the other child up away from her, cradling him as he started to cry again. Merlin placed one free hand on Sevira’s chest, and Gwenivere looked down at her mother. Sevira’s cough was quieted, but was soon replaced by a new one.

“Emrys,” she whispered, “I’m leaving here.”

Merlin stared down at her, fear on his face. He handed Gwenivere to the brown-haired lady, who moved back to stand by the mare.

“No,” his voice trembled and quaked, “No Sevira,” he said leaning down towards her, caressing the top of her hair, trying to smile, to put more conviction then he felt into his words, “You’re going to be fine. You’ll be alright.”

Sevira, turned her head away, looking up out into nothing. She opened and closed her eyes a few times. Then another cough possessed her, sending her almost into a sitting position. “Listen to me Emrys,” she said after it had passed, “I’m not going to get better and you know it. I don’t have much time left so be quiet,” she added after he opened his mouth to start talking.

“Now listen,” she gasped continuing, “It’s either Gwenivere or Lancelot, we don’t know who yet. However, they need to both be trained, and exactly the same way. And they should be kept separate. Oh they can see each other, but only on special occasions,” she said, seeing Merlin’s face, “For their safety. I leave to you to decide who to leave them with.”

Merlin nodded, his mouth numb, his voice frozen. He couldn’t say anything, it was all too much. All he could do was listen to the woman he loved as she said her last words. He couldn’t believe she could die. It just wasn’t possible. He’d seen death before, but he just couldn’t picture Sevira, his beloved Sevira, so strong, dying. She was just too strong.

He stared down into her deep green eyes, the depth of knowledge and acceptation in them shocked him. He realized she needed him to accept too. She had already known that her death would come before his, though he doubted she hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Wizards have a long life span; he was 99 and still fairly young. Compared to a regular human, he was only 28, and just a little before his prime. But, really, he’d never realized the fact. Now he finally understood how hard it had to have been for Sevira to marry him knowing that she would die before him no matter what.

“Sevira,” he said looking into the faces of his children, “I don’t like it, I wish this would never have happened. Whatever you ask-” He broke off, as his voice cracked

“I do not ask, Emrys,” she said fiercely. Vivien got up and walked over to her own horse, checking for injuries, and the warriors turned away from the scene to care for their own wounds and care for the fallen.

Sevira’s face softened as they were left alone. “Do you regret loving me?”

“No,” Merlin said with conviction, “Nimue wanted that, but I married you because I loved you.”

“Exactly,” Sevira sighed, “Do you regret that because of that, this will be harder?”

“I don’t understand…….”

“Never mind, you’ve answered my question,” Sevira sighed hopelessly, then another cough came on. It took longer to pass than the first few, and but when it was done, Sevira turned to Merlin, and said weakly, “I don’t have anymore time Merlin.”

Merlin leaned down towards Sevira. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he bent to kiss her. No one the path made a sound, and everyone was turned away, to give the two the privacy they needed.

Merlin felt Sevira go limp in his arms, and the breath leave her. He lifted his head up to gaze down into her face. Her eyes were open, but they were empty. Lifting his tear-streaked face to the clearing sky, he saw the moon, full and bright and he howled to it in grief and pain, and for those who heard him, felt his pain tear through their souls, sharper than any sword, and they too lifted their faces to the moon to howl with him.

The white mare reared up in grief, her cry stricken with sorrow. Then she whirled, and ran off the way the procession had come, into the night.