Ghosts of Gorlois - 3b-1/3 - Final Part Wednesday
“How did you come by this?” he asked his voice barely more than a whisper as he traced the dragon’s outline.
“It was passed on by my father from his ancestor,” Rhys replied. “When your father asked him to give the sword back to the Lady of the Lake, he swore an oath to Arthur that his descendants and those of the other knights would stand fast through the ages, protecting both the sword and his heir in silence until they were needed again.” Ianto released the necklace and stepped back, realizing that Rhys must know exactly who he was.
“You are descended from Sir Bedwyr’s line?” he queried, needing to clarify that Rhys Willams, manager of a lorry firm, and the man he watched rugby with while drinking beer and swearing at the telly, was indeed the progeny of the most loyal of Arthur’s knights.
“Rhys Bedwyr Willams at your service,” Rhys responded with pride, pulling a sword from beneath his jacket and bringing his arm across his chest in a mark of fealty before bowing slightly. “I’m sorry I never told you Sire, but our oath was to stay hidden to ensure that your identity remain secret.”
“My thanks for your service,” Ianto replied with a smile. “But you mentioned Morgause when you arrived, and she is not a foe to be taken lightly.” Rhys’ face fell, and his eyes danced in anger as he recalled her actions this morning.
“She used the bracelet that Gwen had brought for the curator to examine,” he explained. “Gwen had been identified as a descendant of Morgana long ago, but the bracelet was harmless, and the sight has not been prevalent in the family since the 1800’s so we assumed she was not a risk.” His jaw clenched and Ianto put a hand on his shoulder in comfort as Rhys gathered himself to continue. “Kay called this morning to warn me that Galahad’s research into the exhibition had shown that there were certain pieces that held a small magical charge, not much, but enough that I was to keep Gwen away from them on the off chance that they affected her somehow. We had managed to make it through the morning unscathed, when the curator found a garnet that had been inscribed with the same symbol as the bracelet, and joined them. Before I could stop her, Gwen put it on and Morgause manifested.” He looked to the floor and Ianto squeezed his shoulder, prompting him to continue.
“She kept us frozen, but the pendant protected me enough that I could still hear her and watch her movements,” Rhys continued, lifting his gaze from the floor. “She manipulated Gwen into helping her to save me and our son. Morgause trapped her in the bracelet somehow.” He looked up at Ianto pleading with his eyes for forgiveness. “She mentioned Glastonbury before she disappeared. Our order managed to track her as far as the abbey, but she left at dusk empty handed. I am certain that it is only a matter of time before she returns.”
“You did well Rhys,” Ianto assured him, knowing that his failure to stop Morgause was not his fault. “Knowing Gwen, her curiosity would have found a way to cause this even if you hadn’t taken precautions. We need to find Morgause before she causes Gwen or anyone else permanent harm.” Dropping his arm from Rhys’ shoulder he turned to address the rest of the group. “Any suggestions?”
“Do you have a scrying bowl?” Cassandra asked from the back of the room. Ianto nodded and went to retrieve it while the others cleared off the coffee table. Ianto returned with a pitcher of moon-gathered water and his silver bowl, placing both on the table. Cassandra smiled at him and asked the others to step back while she prepared her space. A few moments later, the water in the bowl began to ripple and an image appeared of Gwen/Morgause pacing inside of a cave, gathering crystals and herbs from what appeared to be a personal cache.
“Is this what you were doing last night?” Jack whispered to Ianto, who nodded, keeping his eyes on his former teacher. Suddenly the image in the bowl stopped moving and stared back at her.
“Who dares watch me?” Morgause hissed. Cassandra waved her hand to clear the water, but before the image cleared a gloved hand burst through and grasped her neck. Cassandra started choking as the hand squeezed off her air supply, and Methos lurched forward and tipped over the bowl, causing the hand to disappear, and caught her as she fell back.
“Th…Tha..Thank you,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Methos helped her stand up and brought her over to a nearby chair. “She’s strong,” Cassandra rasped out. “She nearly pulled me through the portal before you closed it.” Ianto handed her a glass of water and she sipped it slowly letting it sooth her bruised throat.
“Will my Gwen come to harm while she’s using her?” Rhys asked, worried.
“I’m not sure,” she replied, her voice a little more steady. “The longer her mind is suppressed, the stronger Morgause’s hold will grow.” She took another sip and leaned against the back of the chair. “I need to regain my strength. Dousing the bowl like that should have drained her as well, at least until morning.” As she spoke, her eyes grew heavy and Ianto eased the glass from her hands as they began to drift closed.
“I’ll take her,” Duncan offered, lifting her from the chair and taking her to the guest room. When he had gone, Ianto stood and walked to the fireplace, staring into the flames as a plan began to form. Tonight was only a glimpse of what was to come. He had felt Morgause’s magic as it pulsed from the bowl, searching to find the source of power that had breached her wards. It had only been Methos’ quick thinking that had kept her from discovering his presence along with Cassandra’s.
“Rhys,” he called, not turning around. “Do the other knights know if Morgause was aware of my existence?”
“No Sire,” he answered, coming to stand beside him. “Only the moniker of the once and future king ever gave any allusion to the fact that there might be an heir. Merlin and Arthur were very careful in who they trusted.” Ianto nodded his thanks and straightening his back, turned from the fire to face the two men who he knew would protest his plan.
“I’m leaving in the morning for Avalon,” he said, watching as Jack’s jaw clenched and Methos crossed his arms. “And I'm taking Rhys with me.”
“I’m going too,” Jack immediately argued. Ianto shook his head.
“Avalon and the Isle of the Blessed are only accessible by those of magic, or the pure of heart,” Ianto said with a sad smile. “While each of you are admirable men, the darkness of your pasts prohibits you from making the journey.”
Methos and Jack exchanged a look and as Ianto watched, both of them turned back to him with haunted eyes, borne of centuries of atoning for atrocities that no penance would ever make clean. Duncan returned from the guest room and took in the long faces, wondering what he’d missed. Methos glanced at him and then back at Ianto, a slow smile blooming on his face.
“We’ll send Duncan in our stead,” he said with a smirk. “Boy Scout should be able to pass through their gates with flying colors.”
“Now just a minute,” Duncan interrupted confused. “What are you volunteering me for?” Ianto looked the highlander up and down and made his decision.
“Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,” Ianto stated, and Duncan found himself drawing to attention at the formal tone. “I have need of your assistance to accompany me and my knight on a quest for my father’s sword Excalibur, do you accept?”
Duncan stared at the young man in front of him. As the firelight flickered behind him, the sound of past battles and long forgotten acts of chivalry seemed to echo in the distance. The mild mannered man he had first met had been replaced by a determined man of honor, seeking to save his kingdom. He didn’t hesitate.
“Aye, It would be an honor,” he replied, drawing his sword from where it rested beside the couch and holding it across his chest in fealty to the young heir to Camelot.
Ianto smiled. “It’s decided then, we leave at first light.”
~~~~~~~~
The following morning, Duncan, Rhys, and Ianto left the others behind. Ianto had obtained a sworn promise from Methos and Jack to watch out for each other and Cassandra, and to above all to not kill each other before they returned. Rhiannon had agreed to watch little Eddie through the weekend, being pacified at Rhys’ explanation of Torchwood needing to rescue Gwen and wanting his son to be safe. They had driven most of the day and by late afternoon had reached the far north of Wales and the Llyn Peninsula. Ianto had chartered a small boat to make the crossing to Bardsey Island, and after a brief lunch, the three men boarded the vessel for the short trip from the mainland. Once there, they sought the old apple tree growing near the ruins of Saint Mary’s Abbey, and followed the arrow carved into the leftmost knot of her trunk to the trap door hidden beneath the crumbling remains of the bell tower. Descending down into the dark, the soft glow of their torches led the way as they made their way to the cavern hidden below. A small wooden boat without oars was moored beside the ancient lake that filled the cavern, and after leaving all but their swords and the parchment containing Merlin’s spell behind, the three men entered the boat and cast it adrift amongst the mists hanging over the lake's edge.
They travelled out of the cave and into the sea, but no wave crashed, nor bird sang; only the dense fog kept them company as they moved silently on. None of them spoke, though both Duncan and Rhys both kept their hands on their sword hilts, ready to take on whatever lay beyond the misty barrier. At length, the fog parted, and the walls of an ancient castle could be seen in the distance. A dense forest surrounded it on one side, and a small village filled the other. As they drew closer, a lone woman dressed in green could be seen waiting on the dock, a small retinue of handmaidens standing behind her on the shore. As they approached, the three men stood, and when the little craft stopped at the edge of the dock, Ianto was the first to leave it, stepping onto the dock and bowing to the lady waiting there.
“Greetings Ifan, son of Arthur,” she said before he could speak. He looked up and saw long white hair, soft as a snowdrift, framing a youthful face with pale green eyes. “Long has your visit to our shores been foretold.” Duncan and Rhys stepped up beside him and she smiled at each of them in turn before her gaze came to rest on her nephew. “I am the Lady Morgana, protector of this blessed place.” Ianto started at the name. He remembered Merlin telling him of how Morgause had twisted Morgana to her will. Could he trust her? Maybe this entire journey had been a big mistake…
“Worry not, young prince. It is because of Emrys that I found peace. No harm will come to you on Avalon’s shores,” she assured him, reaching out to touch his face. “You have my brother’s eyes,” she observed with a smile. Dropping her hand, she turned to the maidens on the shore and clapped her hands. “Come. The ladies of this place will see to the comfort of your knights while you and I discuss what is to be done about my wayward sister.” Looping her arm through Ianto’s she lead the way down the dock toward the castle, with Rhys and Duncan trailing behind them.
“It was passed on by my father from his ancestor,” Rhys replied. “When your father asked him to give the sword back to the Lady of the Lake, he swore an oath to Arthur that his descendants and those of the other knights would stand fast through the ages, protecting both the sword and his heir in silence until they were needed again.” Ianto released the necklace and stepped back, realizing that Rhys must know exactly who he was.
“You are descended from Sir Bedwyr’s line?” he queried, needing to clarify that Rhys Willams, manager of a lorry firm, and the man he watched rugby with while drinking beer and swearing at the telly, was indeed the progeny of the most loyal of Arthur’s knights.
“Rhys Bedwyr Willams at your service,” Rhys responded with pride, pulling a sword from beneath his jacket and bringing his arm across his chest in a mark of fealty before bowing slightly. “I’m sorry I never told you Sire, but our oath was to stay hidden to ensure that your identity remain secret.”
“My thanks for your service,” Ianto replied with a smile. “But you mentioned Morgause when you arrived, and she is not a foe to be taken lightly.” Rhys’ face fell, and his eyes danced in anger as he recalled her actions this morning.
“She used the bracelet that Gwen had brought for the curator to examine,” he explained. “Gwen had been identified as a descendant of Morgana long ago, but the bracelet was harmless, and the sight has not been prevalent in the family since the 1800’s so we assumed she was not a risk.” His jaw clenched and Ianto put a hand on his shoulder in comfort as Rhys gathered himself to continue. “Kay called this morning to warn me that Galahad’s research into the exhibition had shown that there were certain pieces that held a small magical charge, not much, but enough that I was to keep Gwen away from them on the off chance that they affected her somehow. We had managed to make it through the morning unscathed, when the curator found a garnet that had been inscribed with the same symbol as the bracelet, and joined them. Before I could stop her, Gwen put it on and Morgause manifested.” He looked to the floor and Ianto squeezed his shoulder, prompting him to continue.
“She kept us frozen, but the pendant protected me enough that I could still hear her and watch her movements,” Rhys continued, lifting his gaze from the floor. “She manipulated Gwen into helping her to save me and our son. Morgause trapped her in the bracelet somehow.” He looked up at Ianto pleading with his eyes for forgiveness. “She mentioned Glastonbury before she disappeared. Our order managed to track her as far as the abbey, but she left at dusk empty handed. I am certain that it is only a matter of time before she returns.”
“You did well Rhys,” Ianto assured him, knowing that his failure to stop Morgause was not his fault. “Knowing Gwen, her curiosity would have found a way to cause this even if you hadn’t taken precautions. We need to find Morgause before she causes Gwen or anyone else permanent harm.” Dropping his arm from Rhys’ shoulder he turned to address the rest of the group. “Any suggestions?”
“Do you have a scrying bowl?” Cassandra asked from the back of the room. Ianto nodded and went to retrieve it while the others cleared off the coffee table. Ianto returned with a pitcher of moon-gathered water and his silver bowl, placing both on the table. Cassandra smiled at him and asked the others to step back while she prepared her space. A few moments later, the water in the bowl began to ripple and an image appeared of Gwen/Morgause pacing inside of a cave, gathering crystals and herbs from what appeared to be a personal cache.
“Is this what you were doing last night?” Jack whispered to Ianto, who nodded, keeping his eyes on his former teacher. Suddenly the image in the bowl stopped moving and stared back at her.
“Who dares watch me?” Morgause hissed. Cassandra waved her hand to clear the water, but before the image cleared a gloved hand burst through and grasped her neck. Cassandra started choking as the hand squeezed off her air supply, and Methos lurched forward and tipped over the bowl, causing the hand to disappear, and caught her as she fell back.
“Th…Tha..Thank you,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Methos helped her stand up and brought her over to a nearby chair. “She’s strong,” Cassandra rasped out. “She nearly pulled me through the portal before you closed it.” Ianto handed her a glass of water and she sipped it slowly letting it sooth her bruised throat.
“Will my Gwen come to harm while she’s using her?” Rhys asked, worried.
“I’m not sure,” she replied, her voice a little more steady. “The longer her mind is suppressed, the stronger Morgause’s hold will grow.” She took another sip and leaned against the back of the chair. “I need to regain my strength. Dousing the bowl like that should have drained her as well, at least until morning.” As she spoke, her eyes grew heavy and Ianto eased the glass from her hands as they began to drift closed.
“I’ll take her,” Duncan offered, lifting her from the chair and taking her to the guest room. When he had gone, Ianto stood and walked to the fireplace, staring into the flames as a plan began to form. Tonight was only a glimpse of what was to come. He had felt Morgause’s magic as it pulsed from the bowl, searching to find the source of power that had breached her wards. It had only been Methos’ quick thinking that had kept her from discovering his presence along with Cassandra’s.
“Rhys,” he called, not turning around. “Do the other knights know if Morgause was aware of my existence?”
“No Sire,” he answered, coming to stand beside him. “Only the moniker of the once and future king ever gave any allusion to the fact that there might be an heir. Merlin and Arthur were very careful in who they trusted.” Ianto nodded his thanks and straightening his back, turned from the fire to face the two men who he knew would protest his plan.
“I’m leaving in the morning for Avalon,” he said, watching as Jack’s jaw clenched and Methos crossed his arms. “And I'm taking Rhys with me.”
“I’m going too,” Jack immediately argued. Ianto shook his head.
“Avalon and the Isle of the Blessed are only accessible by those of magic, or the pure of heart,” Ianto said with a sad smile. “While each of you are admirable men, the darkness of your pasts prohibits you from making the journey.”
Methos and Jack exchanged a look and as Ianto watched, both of them turned back to him with haunted eyes, borne of centuries of atoning for atrocities that no penance would ever make clean. Duncan returned from the guest room and took in the long faces, wondering what he’d missed. Methos glanced at him and then back at Ianto, a slow smile blooming on his face.
“We’ll send Duncan in our stead,” he said with a smirk. “Boy Scout should be able to pass through their gates with flying colors.”
“Now just a minute,” Duncan interrupted confused. “What are you volunteering me for?” Ianto looked the highlander up and down and made his decision.
“Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,” Ianto stated, and Duncan found himself drawing to attention at the formal tone. “I have need of your assistance to accompany me and my knight on a quest for my father’s sword Excalibur, do you accept?”
Duncan stared at the young man in front of him. As the firelight flickered behind him, the sound of past battles and long forgotten acts of chivalry seemed to echo in the distance. The mild mannered man he had first met had been replaced by a determined man of honor, seeking to save his kingdom. He didn’t hesitate.
“Aye, It would be an honor,” he replied, drawing his sword from where it rested beside the couch and holding it across his chest in fealty to the young heir to Camelot.
Ianto smiled. “It’s decided then, we leave at first light.”
~~~~~~~~
The following morning, Duncan, Rhys, and Ianto left the others behind. Ianto had obtained a sworn promise from Methos and Jack to watch out for each other and Cassandra, and to above all to not kill each other before they returned. Rhiannon had agreed to watch little Eddie through the weekend, being pacified at Rhys’ explanation of Torchwood needing to rescue Gwen and wanting his son to be safe. They had driven most of the day and by late afternoon had reached the far north of Wales and the Llyn Peninsula. Ianto had chartered a small boat to make the crossing to Bardsey Island, and after a brief lunch, the three men boarded the vessel for the short trip from the mainland. Once there, they sought the old apple tree growing near the ruins of Saint Mary’s Abbey, and followed the arrow carved into the leftmost knot of her trunk to the trap door hidden beneath the crumbling remains of the bell tower. Descending down into the dark, the soft glow of their torches led the way as they made their way to the cavern hidden below. A small wooden boat without oars was moored beside the ancient lake that filled the cavern, and after leaving all but their swords and the parchment containing Merlin’s spell behind, the three men entered the boat and cast it adrift amongst the mists hanging over the lake's edge.
They travelled out of the cave and into the sea, but no wave crashed, nor bird sang; only the dense fog kept them company as they moved silently on. None of them spoke, though both Duncan and Rhys both kept their hands on their sword hilts, ready to take on whatever lay beyond the misty barrier. At length, the fog parted, and the walls of an ancient castle could be seen in the distance. A dense forest surrounded it on one side, and a small village filled the other. As they drew closer, a lone woman dressed in green could be seen waiting on the dock, a small retinue of handmaidens standing behind her on the shore. As they approached, the three men stood, and when the little craft stopped at the edge of the dock, Ianto was the first to leave it, stepping onto the dock and bowing to the lady waiting there.
“Greetings Ifan, son of Arthur,” she said before he could speak. He looked up and saw long white hair, soft as a snowdrift, framing a youthful face with pale green eyes. “Long has your visit to our shores been foretold.” Duncan and Rhys stepped up beside him and she smiled at each of them in turn before her gaze came to rest on her nephew. “I am the Lady Morgana, protector of this blessed place.” Ianto started at the name. He remembered Merlin telling him of how Morgause had twisted Morgana to her will. Could he trust her? Maybe this entire journey had been a big mistake…
“Worry not, young prince. It is because of Emrys that I found peace. No harm will come to you on Avalon’s shores,” she assured him, reaching out to touch his face. “You have my brother’s eyes,” she observed with a smile. Dropping her hand, she turned to the maidens on the shore and clapped her hands. “Come. The ladies of this place will see to the comfort of your knights while you and I discuss what is to be done about my wayward sister.” Looping her arm through Ianto’s she lead the way down the dock toward the castle, with Rhys and Duncan trailing behind them.