Performing One's Purpose-- Prologue
Prologue
The black clouds boiled as the storm readied to burst, its grumbles audible from miles around. The clouds blocked out the lowering sun, dimming the light and turning the world murky. No one saw the black-cloaked figure riding hell-bent on some destination, any who might have seen his path were too wary to brave the encroaching storm.
Lightening forked across the sky, releasing a blinding flash of light before it faded back into gloom. The rider slowed his mount, the poor exhausted creature lurching as more lightning struck, but too tired to try and run to seek cover.
Running a soothing hand over its sweat-slickened coat, the rider started to lead it up the path, heading up and into the mountains they had come to. The winds whistled loudly through the weathered rock, tugging at his cloak and hood, threatening to snatch it away and leave him exposed to the elements.
As the last of the natural light began to fade and the gloom started to darken even more, they came to a level ledge, the mouth of a large cave opening onto it. He led the beast into it, quickly taking off its gear and rubbing it down. Outside, the clouds finally reached their breaking point, releasing their burden onto the world below, quickly drenching anything caught without shelter.
Pulling back his hood with an impatient hand, Balinor bent to pick up a torch from a pile in the back of the cave. A quick word and it sparked into life, the oil-soaked cloth catching easily. Holding it high, he walked forward, gait confident as he approached the back wall…and walked through the stone, a mere illusion to ward unwanted people off.
The passage behind the mirage was tall and narrow, damp and darkness pressing from all around. Torch raised, he made his way in and down, towards the heart of the mountain.
He knew he was close to his destination when his torch began flickering from an upward draft. Two more turns and the passage opened back up into a wide ledge of stone. Outward and above, the vast space of the cave tried to press down on him and crush him with its overwhelming silence. Ignoring it, he set the torch in a carved stone bracket.
“Dragon!” his voice echoed and rebounded, repeating again and again until the last echoes faded back into silence again. The silence was soon shattered again as something large pressed down against the air, forcing it down with each powerful wing stroke, raising a wind in the formally still cavern.
Balinor stared up at the great beast of magic. No matter how many times he visited, how much time he spent with him, Kilgharrah still awed him like nothing else, making him feel small and powerful at the same time, with his ability to speak to and control this magnificent being. But their time together wasn’t meant to last much longer.
“What news, Dragonlord?” Kilgharrah’s voice boomed in the silence, echoing off the walls of stone that encased them.
“It was as predicted. Uther made a pact with Nimueh for an heir. Ygraine will die in childbirth in a week’s time.” He felt weighed down with this knowledge, that he could have stopped everything, if he had just spoken up, but destiny had already made itself clear. In order for the future to continue, Ygraine must die.
“Ahh, then the Seer was right.” The Dragon’s demeanor changed, seeming to droop under a heavy burden. “This price for an uncertain future seems to be too much.”
“I am sorry. There was nothing I can do.”
“It was not your fault, my friend. We all have our time, even I. We must prepare for the future. The Seer said that Uther’s son was the one who would bring about the golden age, but the future can be changed so easily. We must create a failsafe so that it will happen.”
“You can’t mean…”
“Yes, Dragonlord, it is time. We have a week until the end of these peaceful times. There is no more time to be indecisive. We must act now.” He knew Kilgharrah was right. It was too late to stop this. They could only prepare for the hopeful future.
He nodded. “You are right. Tell me what I must do.”
~*~
Duty… I’ve long since come to understand what this word means through many examples. The duty of a prince to his people, to his kingdom, to his allies, to his king, and most importantly, to his father. I have my own duties. Those bestowed upon me by the king when he made me Arthur’s manservant, my duty to Gaius as his helper and apprentice. Those duties bestowed by my destiny and those to my mother, Hunith, the last of my family, and the friends that still live. I know very well what my duties are.
It is my purpose that has been unclear for so long. Yes, I am meant to help Arthur bring about a golden age, but that was just my destiny, forced upon me. What am I meant for? What am I to do once this happens? There is nothing afterwards that I can think of.
Sometimes, I wonder through these halls, feeling lost in this vast world, unsure of myself. Other times, I feel as if I know what I am meant to do, that it is just on the tip of my tongue and if I try hard enough, the idea will come. It never does though, the feeling fading as something distracts me, usually when I awaken from sleep.
Who knows, maybe I am doing what I’m meant to do and I don’t really know it. But for now, I am too busy to ponder it too long. Already the sun is rising and I must go to awaken Arthur. I will store this idea away for another day.
~*~
Merlin stared down blankly at the words written on slightly crinkled parchment; a cast-off of Gaius’s that he had scavenged. It had been months since he had written these words and many more, the pages tied together and stuffed into the back of his magic book where he knew no one would find them.
Of course, if someone ever found them, he would have bigger things to worry about than what was on these pages. He hoped that day never came. His head jerked up as the candle next to him flickered and guttered before going out. Peering closely at it in the dim light, he saw what was left of his candle, the wax a melted pool all around the burnt-out wick. It was time to get a new candle. He would gather the spent candle in the morning, melting the wax down to be reused.
Sighing, he tied the bundle back together and shoved them back into his book. Lifting the loose floor board with ease, he slipped the damning evidence into its snug hole and shut it. Getting up, he made his way through his room to the door.
Arthur thought he was just untidy and Gaius was still unsure, but the only reason his room was often in chaos was that his magic liked to play while he slept. But after years of practice, he’d finally gained a better leash on it and now, his room remained reasonably clean most of the time.
Opening his door, he looked out to see Gaius was still awake, nose jammed into the pages of a book as he read by firelight. He only glanced up as Merlin walked down the steps before turning back to his book.
Heading for the far side of the cluttered room, he stopped before a shelf of drawers. Bending down, he opened one of the large ones on the bottom, revealing a stash of crudely made candles, the wax a variety of differing colors.
Tugging one out of the pile, he shut it again, stretching as he stood, arms reaching up as he loosened his back and shoulder muscles, a sigh of pleasure at the feeling slipping out in an exhale of breath.
Taking a step back, he froze, a frown pulling down the corners of his lips as he felt something brush his consciousness. It was gone before he could figure out what it was, but it felt familiar, somehow, like he knew who it was.
Shrugging, he started to turn around and a wave of dizziness swept over him, causing the world to spin alarmingly and the edges of his vision to gray out. He saw the ground rushing up but couldn’t get his arms to move, his mind’s commands going unheeded.
The jarring thump as he landed on his front jolted him back, the world righting itself and his vision returning to normal. Letting out a pained groan, he pushed himself back up off the ground, using a nearby stool as a crutch in case the dizziness came back.
He heard shuffling feet and looked up to see Gaius starting to stand, frown marring his wrinkled brow as he looked down at his apprentice and ward. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice concerned, frown dragging at his lips, deepening the brackets already there.
Taking a breath, he nodded. “Yeah, just got dizzy for a moment and lost my balance. Must be more tired than I thought. I think I’ll go to bed a little early. No need to worry.” With a grunt, he pushed himself up the rest of the way, testing aching knees where he had landed on them, but they held, though complaining about the abuse they had just received.
“What are you researching?” he asked as a way to distract the older man from his concern.
Gaius shot him a look that said he knew what Merlin was doing, but answered anyway. “I found a link between rosemary and vervain that might be used to help in a poultice for rashes, but I’m having a little trouble finding it again.”
.: Interesting. :.
Merlin jerked, whipping his head around, searching for the voice. “What’s wrong?” Gaius asked, struggling to push back his chair, and looking around as well, fearing a magical attack.
“Ah, it was nothing. I just thought I heard something. My mistake, I think I’ll head to bed now. Good night.” Gaius nodded, bidding him good night as well and settling back into his chair, pulling the book closer once again.
Trudging up the stairs, he shut the door behind him quietly, leaning on it with a weary sigh. He rubbed at his ears, confused on how he was hearing things…or feeling things. Maybe there was a sorcerer nearby that he was picking up on by accident. That would explain a lot, and it would also mean he wasn’t starting to hear things.
.: Wrong. :.
He jumped, looking around, but his room was empty of anyone or anything, but just in case…he bent down, glancing under his bed. All that was there was the Sidhe staff and it had never spoken to him in all the years since he acquired it.
Thinking they could be hiding with magic, he pictured the words for the spell in his mind. His eyes flashed gold briefly before turning back to their normal blue. Nothing. Not even a shadow in the shadows.
Sighing, he walked over to his table and set the candle down next to the melted one. Toeing his boots off, he quickly stripped down to his smalls, shivering in the cool night air for a second before he dived down under the blankets, sighing as the heat flowed over him. The good thing about magic was that he could fix it to objects. Like a heat charm that kept his bed cozy when it was cool at night, or freezing in winter.
He must really be tired, to be imagining things. It was silly, to think that someone was talking to him, when he didn’t want them to. Sighing, he snuggled further into his blankets, relishing in the warmth.
.: If only you knew the truth. :.
He ignored the whispered words, willing sleep to take him faster before he started to think he was really hearing something. If he heard laughter, he decided it was someone outside and not in his head, ignoring that he was in one of the towers and at least three stories up with his window firmly shut.
Part 1