Arthur Pendragon and the Philosopher's Sword Part 1
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Arthur Pendragon and the Philosopher's Sword Part 1
Prologue
To most people King Drive looked like any other suburban street. The houses were all styled the same, all made of the same beige coloured brick. Each front garden had the same size immaculate lawn. The cars on the driveway were similar models and colours, all corporate company cars. There was nothing particularly special or unique about it.
It was, in fact, rather boring and ordinary. Unlike the people currently standing across from number four.
“I wish we didn't have to leave him there,” Nimueh said, looking at the living room window. Despite it being daytime the curtains were drawn.
Beside her an older man in red robes looked sympathetic. “You know what Kilgharrah said,” Gaius replied. “It's not time yet.”
“He is Ygraine's son! He should be part of our world,” Nimueh said, the energy around her crackling.
Gaius put a hand on her arm. “Calm yourself, Nimueh. One day he will be. Uther is his father, the only family he has now; he will take care of him.”
“In a mundane way,” Nimueh said bitterly, although the energy around her calmed.
“And that's what Arthur needs right now,” Gaius replied.
Nimueh said nothing, as at that moment the curtains twitched. Taking this as a sign to leave they whispered a few words and simply vanished.
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Eighteen years later....
The letter came on a Tuesday afternoon at 3PM. Arthur remembered because he had become attuned to the noise of the letterbox after anxiously waiting for his A-level results (which were good, but not enough for his first choice university to his father's disappointment. Even though Arthur had been planning a gap year anyway). He got up from his comfortable position on the sofa where he'd been messing about playing an FIFA game on his X-Box.
Stretching, he went to see what had been posted through the letterbox this late in the afternoon. The normal post had already come, and the last thing Arthur wanted was for Morgana to snatch the letter from under his nose. He wanted to read it before his sister if he could. She'd already gained too much blackmail material on him during the summer holidays.
As Arthur reached the door, he saw a single, thick-looking envelope on the mat and bent down to pick it up. The paper felt odd and thick; it felt old. It was slightly browned and oddly stained and the writing on it seemed old-fashioned. It was handwritten and hard to read.
Squinting, Arthur managed to make out the words:
'Mr Arthur Pendragon
4 King Drive
Albion'
That was it; there was no postcode. Arthur noticed the envelope didn't even have a stamp on it, which meant the letter had to have been hand delivered.
Who on earth would hand deliver a letter to him? Arthur could think of no one. Barely anyone wrote to him at all, except for postcards from his mates whose parents had let them go abroad to celebrate their exams, so the idea of a hand-delivered letter made no sense.
Flipping the letter over, he noticed the letter was sealed with dark red wax. The seal appeared to have the symbol of a dragon on it. Even more confused now, Arthur wondered if it was some big hoax. Maybe it contained some sort of powder that would blow up in his face.
“Who's it for?” came Morgana's voice.
Arthur looked up to see her coming down the stairs.
“It's for me,” he replied. “So, if you don’t mind leaving me alone....”
Morgana came down the stairs, and tried to look over his shoulder to get a glimpse. “Is your ex-girlfriend writing to you again? What was her name? Sil something?”
Arthur moved out of the hallway and back into the living room, Morgana still at his shoulder, proving that sisters were born to be annoying. “Silvia, and, no, this letter isn't from her. I don’t think this is her writing.” Arthur held up the letter briefly so Morgana could see the address.
“You've got a letter!” Morgana practically shrieked.
“I think we've already established that.”
“No, I mean you've got a letter. The letter. Father will go mad when he finds out.” Morgana clapped her hands in delight.
Arthur half suspected Morgana had sent the thing as a joke.
“Well, go on then,” she said, nudging him. “Open it.”
“It's my letter,” Arthur said. “I'll decide when I open it. I'm not opening it just because you want me to.” He was not giving Morgana the satisfaction of seeing his reaction.
“I know what it says anyway,” Morgana said, turning to leave the room. “I just wanted to see your face.”
“So you did send this!”
“Arthur, you're not worth the trouble,” Morgana replied and left the room. No doubt heading upstairs to go and do whatever it was she did that required her to lock her door so often.
Arthur sat down on the sofa and fingered the envelope while trying to work out the psychological machinations of his elder sister. Had Morgana acted like it was no big deal so he would open the letter? Was it a double bluff? Was she waiting outside in the hall?
Getting up, Arthur stuck his head around the door but there was no sign of her. Carefully closing the living room door he went back over to the sofa. Falling back and letting himself sink into the cushions, he took a good long look at the envelope.
The handwriting, the seal, the paper - - it all seemed a lot of effort for a joke. The more he held it, the more Arthur's fingertips began to tingle. He flexed them, but the tingle remained. Something about the letter did intrigue him.
With a last look toward the door, Arthur broke the seal and pulled out a thickly folded letter. The letter was made from the same thick, old-looking paper as the envelope. He unfolded it and saw that the letter was written in the same odd handwriting as the address. He read it silently, re-reading to make sense of the hard-to-read words.
'Dear Mr Arthur Pendragon,
It is with great pleasure that I inform you that you have been accepted to study at Camelot University for the Magically Gifted.
You are to start the new semester on 1st September.
Further instructions and information about your travel arrangements will be sent to you by post tomorrow.
Yours sincerely,
Professor Gaius Gideon
On behalf of Professor Kilgharrah; Chancellor of Camelot University'
The letter made no sense to Arthur. As far as he knew there was no such university, let alone one he had applied to, and what was this about being magically gifted? Arthur Pendragon was as normal as they came.
Yes, sometimes odd things happened when he was playing footie, like that time the ball seemed to move without him touching it. Yes, there were a few weird marks on his wall that looked like scorch-marks, but that was nothing. He wasn't a wizard; he didn't own a wand or a pointy hat and he certainly didn't know any spells.
Frowning, he shoved the letter into his pocket and forgot about it until dinner.
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Around the dinner table conversation was as stilted as always. Arthur's father, Uther, knew how to discuss the stock market with his friends and what to talk about when playing golf but the art of decent conversation with his children was something he had never mastered. It was a pity as it had just been the three of them for as long as Arthur had been alive.
Arthur was passing his father the salt when Morgana spoke up.
“Arthur got a letter today,” she said, smiling, before taking a bite of lasagne.
“And this is news, Morgana?” Uther asked. “I'm sure Arthur gets plenty of post.”
Morgana swallowed. “Not like this,” she said. “He got the letter.”
As Arthur watched, his father suddenly appeared to pale. His knuckles went white where he gripped his fork. He turned to Arthur. “Is this true?” he asked, his voice sounding angry.
“I got a letter, Father,” Arthur replied. “It's just a joke.”
“Let me see it.”
Not sure what was going on or what had caused his father to be so angry, Arthur pulled the letter out of his pocket and handed it to him.
Arthur watched as his father read it and then firmly screwed it up. “You will forget about this, Arthur,” he said. “You will pretend you never saw this.”
His father was acting very strangely over a letter that seemed to be nothing more than an elaborate hoax. “Yes, Father.”
To Arthur's surprise, Morgana stood up from her seat on the opposite side of the table. “You can't do that!” She said. “Arthur has a right to know.”
“There is nothing for him to know,” Uther said, his voice strained and his face becoming red in his anger. “You'll not mention the letter again either.”
“Try and stop me,” Morgana said, turning and storming out the room, slamming the door behind her.
Arthur hadn’t seen Morgana this angry at Uther for two years. He hadn't been privy to what had happened back then and it appeared he wasn't going to be allowed to know what was going on now. “Father?”
“It's best if you forget all about this,” Uther said, getting up from the table.
Arthur nodded and picked at his food. Normally he could forget it but he felt he was missing something, something very important. From the way his father had reacted, it was obvious there was far more to the letter than he had originally thought. Now he wondered if he should have handed it over so casually.
Uther had gone over to the fireplace, throwing the letter on the wood. They had a real fire, but as they had central heating, it was rarely lit. Now Uther was bent over striking a match, and, as Arthur watched, Uther set fire to the letter and watched it burn.
As the flames consumed the paper, Arthur was sure he could hear crying. He was angry and confused, and his head had begun to hurt, but he felt powerless to challenge his father. He wasn't like Morgana who stood up to their father daily.
Arthur didn't notice that, as the paper turned to black ashes, the glass holding his water cracked.
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The atmosphere in the house was strained that night. Arthur went up to his room to stay out of the way of his father who was in the foulest mood Arthur could ever remember. He spent most of his time lying on his bed, flicking through the TV channels and playing with his iPod, only venturing out to grab a biscuit and a can of coke from the kitchen.
Making his way downstairs he saw Morgana knock on the door to their father's office, and heard Uther tell her to come in. Arthur knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but he couldn't help it as he crept down the stairs and along the hall to get a better position.
He could hear their raised voices through the door. He hardly had to listen in.
“He is not going and that is final!” he could hear his father yell.
“You have no right to stop him. Arthur is like his mother. You can choose to ignore that but it doesn’t change anything.”
Arthur frowned as he listened. He took after his mother in appearance, one reason he and Morgana barely looked related at all rather than half sibilings, but what on earth could Morgana mean?
“Ygraine gave all that up when we married.”
“But not when she made the choice to protect Arthur.”
“What happened eighteen years ago is history. I swore that I'd make sure Arthur was never part of that.”
Arthur was curious. Part of what? What had his mother been part of before she'd married his father? Not some sort of cult? From the way his father was talking that was what it sounded like. He rubbed his temples as his head started to hurt.
“You can’t make the decision!”
“As long as he lives in this house I can and I will. Arthur is my son and he lives by my rules. Just because I promised your mother on her deathbed doesn't mean I like you going there.”
“And what about Arthur's mother? What about her dying wishes?”
“You have no right to speak about that. Get out!”
Arthur lurched away from the door as Morgana flung it open and stormed out. She paused as she saw Arthur standing there, trying to look as if he hadn't been eavesdropping. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.
Arthur wanted to ask 'sorry for what?' but the words wouldn’t come. Losing all interest in getting a drink Arthur headed back upstairs. He was frustrated. Whatever was going on involved him, and clearly Morgana knew more about it than he did. Morgana knew something about his own mother he didn't know. It wasn't fair or right. She wasn’t Morgana's mother, why did Morgana know?
Arthur flung himself back on his bed, the sheets still rumpled from lounging on it earlier. He sighed, and rubbed his temples; his head was still throbbing. Another headache, just what he needed. He'd been suffering from them all year. At first he thought they were related to his exams and the intensive studying and cramming sessions he'd had to do, but they had continued on into the summer and painkillers had no effect.
Closing his eyes, he decided to try and relax a little. Maybe a short nap would help.
He hadn't seemed to have closed his eyes for long when he was woken up by Morgana yelling.
“Arthur! You better come down here!”
Arthur yawned and rubbed his eyes. He wondered if he hadn't imagined Morgana yelling until he heard her again.
“Arthur! Now!”
Morgana sounded very insistent. Shaking his head, Arthur got up off the bed, it took some effort. He went slowly to the door trying to wake himself up a bit. When he had made it out of his room he found Morgana was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. She was looking worried.
“You took your time,” she said.
“What's going on?” Arthur asked, still feeling a little fuzzy from sleep.
“Professor Gaius is talking to Father about your admission.”
“What on earth are you talking about, Morgana?” Arthur asked, stretching his stiff arms.
Morgana leaned close. “We don’t have much time but the letter you got, Arthur, that was real. Magic is real and you have it. Uther doesn't want you to attend Camelot.”
“What do you mean, it's real?” Arthur felt confused.
“Believe me, Arthur, please. You need to see Gaius.” Morgana shoved him toward the study door.
He could hear voices inside, one of them his father's. Arthur hovered outside, not sure if he should enter.
“Come in, Arthur,” came a voice that was not his father's. This voice was more cheerful and older sounding.
Gingerly, Arthur opened the door. Standing near his father was an older man with white hair, and what appeared to be faded blue robes. “Ah, Arthur, it's good to see you,” the man said, coming over and clasping Arthur's hand.
Arthur shook it out of politeness. “Do I know you?”
“How like your mother you are,” the man said. “I knew her well.”
“You knew my mother?”
“You will not speak to him,” Uther said.
The man stepped back from Arthur and turned toward Uther. “He has every right to know the truth, Uther. Please. It was Ygraine's dying wish....”
“And I will not have him hurt the way she was, Gaius.”
“Will someone please tell me what's going on?” Arthur asked, feeling lost. He'd caught his father calling the other man Gaius and Morgana had called him Professor for some reason. He remembered the name on the letter had been Professor Gaius.
“Your mother,” Gaius began, “was a great sorceress. One of the most gifted I've ever known. After she met your father of course she gave it up, but her gifts will have been passed onto you. You're a sorcerer, Arthur.”
“He is not!”
“I am not!”
Uther and Arthur spoke simultaneously.
“You're only just of age,” Gaius said. “Your powers will just be emerging. That's why you need to come to Camelot; to study, to learn and to put your gifts to good use.”
“I don’t have any gifts,” Arthur said. “I'm normal.” Even if his headache had returned as a dull ache behind his eyes. He could feel the pain starting to spread.
“There has been no evidence of magic,” Uther said.
“Because you have chosen to ignore it,” Gaius said. “Kilgharrah is never wrong.”
Arthur’s head was now throbbing all over. He felt as if he should know exactly what they were talking about but he didn’t. The names were almost familiar; he could almost place them. Something about Gaius, magic and Kilgharrah. If only his head would stop hurting.
“What are you talking about?!” he yelled.
At that moment, the whiskey glass on his father's desk shattered. As it did so, Arthur's head suddenly felt lighter.
“There you see,” Gaius said.
“I didn't do anything!” Arthur protested, staring at the remains of the glass, all sharp, jagged edges.
Uther was staring at him in shock. “You're a...”
Arthur backed away slowly. His father looked pale half in fear and half in anger. “Father...”
Gaius took his arm. “I think it would be best for everyone right now if we left. Pack what you can and meet me outside in five minutes.” Gaius pushed him toward the door of Uther's study. “Go, hurry.”
Arthur looked back at his father who had by now collapsed in his chair and was staring at the whiskey glass. Arthur wanted to say something but the urgent look on Gaius's face told him now was not the time. He left the room and ran upstairs.
Morgana was waiting for him in his room, already stuffing things into his rucksack, the one he'd bought for his gap year travelling the world. Now it seemed she wanted him to run away from home with it.
“I've packed you some toiletries, your iPod, your phone and some money,” she informed him. “I was also going to pack a few T-shirts and some pairs of jeans, but I know how you feel about your clothes.”
Arthur just dumbly stared at her as she rushed about the room, pulling out underwear and socks and stuffing them into the rucksack. “I'm not going anywhere,” he said quietly.
Morgana stopped and turned to him. Without warning she gave him a hug. Morgana never hugged him. “You are,” she said. “Arthur, I know you're scared but trust me, you need to go with Gaius.”
“How on earth can you know how I feel?” Arthur asked.
Morgana turned to where the rucksack lay on the bed. She whispered something and the two pairs of socks next to it suddenly floated up and then down into the bag. “I know exactly what it's like,” she said, quietly. Turning back, she smiled. “This is for the best.”
“I can't just leave father....” Arthur protested. “Not like that.”
“He needs time,” Morgana said. “Trust me, Arthur.”
Despite the craziness that had overtaken his life in the past half hour, Arthur did trust her. Morgana had always been there for him since they were children, despite their sometimes strained relationship. He nodded. “I just want to know what's going on.”
Morgana gave him a sympathetic look. “You will,” she said.
“I know. I trust you,” Arthur said, half tempted to roll his eyes.
Morgana gave him another hug and pushed him towards the bed to finish his packing. Arthur felt a bit sick but he did want answers and it seemed that he wasn't going to get them from his father. He wanted to know what had happened with the glass, what his mother had been, why there was so much he felt he should know but was just out of his reach.
He shoved a couple of T-shirts and two pairs of jeans into his rucksack. He chose his plainer ones given he had no idea where he would be going. Somehow he had a feeling that it wouldn't be the sort of place where people would understand any witty T-shirt slogans.
Everything fit nicely into his rucksack, which had been designed for this, although Arthur didn't think he'd be off hiking anywhere. He grabbed his jacket and put it on before flinging the rucksack over his back. A quick glance at his watch showed he'd already kept Gaius waiting for over five minutes.
Morgana pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and pushed a glass ball into his hand. “So you don't forget,” she whispered.
Arthur studied the thing, confused. It seemed just a trinket like the sort Morgana bought all the time from the weird new age shop on the high-street. “Thank you,” he said. He appreciated the thought behind the gift, even if it seemed unhelpful. When he got outside his room he shoved the ball deep in his rucksack, hoping to protect it by packing his clothes around it.
He made his way downstairs, half expecting his father to be at the door to stop him, but he wasn't. Arthur was unsure whether to be relieved or not. Part of him wanted his father to be there, to stop him leaving but somehow Arthur had known he wouldn't be. He opened the door quietly and stepped outside.
Gaius was waiting for him at the end of the drive. Arthur walked toward him, feeling more than a little nervous as he felt the cool night air on his face. He wasn't sure whether to return the smile Gaius was giving him or not.
“You’ve got your things?” he asked.
“A few things, yes,” Arthur said. In his rucksack was probably less than he'd even think to bring camping, but he hadn't had time to really think about what to pack.
“Good,” Gaius said. “We can go then.”
One thing that hadn't escaped Arthur's notice was that there was no strange car parked anywhere on the street. “Are we taking the train?” he asked. “Or a bus?”
Gaius looked thoughtful. “We could take the bus but I believe speed is of the essence.”
Without warning, he grabbed Arthur's arm, muttered something that sounded like 'forþweg' and his eyes flashed gold. Arthur felt as if he was gently being tugged but then the feeling became stronger, as if his whole body was being pulled. Everything around seemed to distort and swirl around him. Then everything went black.
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When Arthur came to, he found himself lying on a slightly dusty, bare floor. It wasn't very comfortable so Arthur moved to sit up. As he did so his head felt light and dizzy and his joints tingled. It was disconcerting.
“Here, drink this,” came Gaius's voice, breaking through the hazy feeling in Arthur's head.
A cup of something was pressed into Arthur's hand. Despite his dizziness he eyed the concoction in the glass carefully. It looked thick, green, and very unappealing.
“It will make you feel better,” Gaius said.
For all Arthur knew it could have been poison, but considering he'd been standing on his drive not moments earlier, he didn’t have a choice. Plus, he was starting to feel worse. Closing his eyes, he drank the contents of the cup in one.
A bitter taste assaulted his throat and he coughed once he'd drunk it all. “What was that?” he asked, screwing his face up at the taste.
“A restorative,” Gaius said, taking the empty cup from him. “Transparating for the first time can take its toll on the body.”
Arthur was starting to feel much better. His joints no longer tingled and the dizziness was fading. He felt well enough to try and stand up. “What's Transper-- whatever it was?” he asked.
“The act of magically transporting yourself from one place to another,” Gaius replied, helping Arthur to his feet.
Arthur brushed the dust from his jeans and looked around. The room was fairly dull and old looking. The walls were a dark, rich wood panelling, with odd carvings of what looked like monsters dotted about here and there. The ceiling looked as if it hadn't been painted or cleaned in years, and there were cobwebs in the corners.
As to furniture, there was a table and chairs and a couple of four poster beds draped with curtains that looked tatty and old. There were a few worn rugs dotted about which looked rather threadbare and the colours on them had faded. The whole room looked trapped in time, as if the door had been locked for several decades and it had only just been opened.
“Where are we?” Arthur asked.
“The Rising Sun inn,” Gaius replied. “In Avalon.”
“Avalon?” Arthur wondered if he was dreaming. If he had in fact been killed in some sort of magical accident.
“Yes, the magical realm that exists alongside Albion. Uther didn't tell you any of this?” Gaius asked, looking concerned.
“No,” Arthur said. “This can't be real. Magic isn't real....” He paced a little trying to get his head around the fact he had somehow been magically transported to an old inn in some strange other realm.
“I understand this is a shock,” Gaius said.
“I think it's a little more than that,” Arthur told him.
Gaius smiled. “Perhaps you'd like something to eat?” he asked. Not waiting for Arthur's reply he muttered some words and waved his hand about. Suddenly, on the table was what looked like a plate of roast chicken dinner, and a glass of water. “I believe it's one of your favourites,” Gaius said.
Arthur wandered over to the table and blinked. It looked real. He reached out and touched the edge of the plate. It felt real, too. His stomach growled. It hadn't been that long since he'd eaten but the smell of the food was too tempting.
“It's not poisonous,” Gaius said.
Arthur sat down and picked up the fork that had also appeared out of nowhere. He then picked up the knife and tentatively sliced off a bit of chicken. Raising his fork he took a bite. It tasted real too, some of the best he'd ever tasted. He finished off that piece and then tried the potatoes, also real and also tasty.
Eventually after trying everything he started to eat more normally. Gaius sat opposite him and watched. It was a bit disconcerting.
“You’re very like your mother,” Gaius said. “She liked roast chicken too.”
Arthur swallowed his mouthful. “What was my mother?” he asked.
“A sorceress, one of the best. In time she could have been good enough to teach at Camelot but she met your father and....” Gaius paused. “Uther was never that fond of magic even before.... He preferred Ygraine seek a career outside of Avalon.”
“She was a teacher,” Arthur said. Not that he had ever known her. He often wondered if he would have had an easier time at school if she'd lived, or if his father's pushiness to do well would have been echoed by his mother.
Gaius smiled. “She would have taught you about your magic.”
“I don’t have any magic,” Arthur replied, stabbing his food.
“Then how do you explain what happened with the glass?”
Arthur couldn't really explain it. Or much of what he'd experienced. The idea that his mother had been some sort of witch seemed unreal. “I can't.”
Gaius smiled.
Arthur ate a little more before asking a question that had been on his mind since he realised Gaius had known his mother. “If my mother had all this magic,” he said. “How did she die when she gave birth to me?”
Gaius's expression grew darker. “I don't think now is the time to be discussing that, Arthur.”
His tone told Arthur that the question wouldn’t be answered, no matter how much he asked.
“I have a right to know,” Arthur said.
“You do, and you'll be told, but not yet. There's a lot for you to take in.”
Despite the fact that he wanted to argue, Arthur knew that Gaius was right. He had been plunged into a world he knew nothing about. Still, there was a sense of familiarity, of belonging, even though he was in a strange room with a man he knew nothing about.
“What do you do?” Arthur asked, realising it was probably a good idea to know more about Gaius.
“I'm a Professor at Camelot University; the letter would have told you that,” Gaius said.
“What are you a professor of?”
This seemed to engage Gaius's interest. “My studies are generally related to the field of magical science, with particular interest in the healing arts.”
Arthur frowned. “You're a doctor?”
“Of sorts, yes. I teach healing magic among other things. You will be taking courses with me as well as your other tutors.”
Arthur was about to ask more about what courses he would be having, assuming he was actually going to a magical university (and he couldn't be sure about that; he still wondered if he wasn't still asleep), when there was a knock at the door.
“I'll see who it is,” Gaius said, getting up.
Taking one last bite Arthur realised he felt full and his appetite had diminished. The food on his plate no longer held any interest. Not when he was finally beginning to get answers to questions he hadn’t had until recently.
“Ah, Geoffrey, come in,” Gaius said, as he opened the door..
An older man entered the room. He looked around Gaius's age with bushy eyebrows and equally bushy beard that seemed designed to offset his bald head. He was carrying a large armful of books and was wearing deep red robes.
“Arthur, this is Geoffrey of Monmouth,” Gaius said, ushering the man in. “He's Camelot's head librarian.”
Putting his fork down, Arthur stood up and politely offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I'm Arthur Pendragon,” he said, formally.
Geoffrey was unable to shake Arthur's hand; he was having a hard enough time holding onto his books. “Pleased to meet you, Arthur,” he said. “You do look like your mother.”
Someone else who knew her, Arthur presumed. “So I've heard.”
“Geoffrey's brought the textbooks you'll be needing,” Gaius replied, waving a hand and clearing the table of the plate, food and cutlery. It was fortunate Arthur had finished eating.
“Thank you,” Arthur said.
Geoffrey set the tomes down with a heavy thud. “Yes, your mother left these in my care some years ago in the hope one day you'd be able to use them.”
Arthur reached out and touched one of the leather covers. “These were my mother's?”
“Yes, they were. In fact,” Geoffrey held up a finger and then began to go through the pile. He pulled out a small book, one with a black leather cover. “This was written by her,” he said, passing the book to Arthur.
Arthur took it carefully, his fingers warm against the leather. The title was embossed on the front with gold lettering: 'A Discourse on Magical Legends and their Modern Interpretation by Ygraine DuBois'. “My mother wrote this?”
“She did,” Geoffrey said. “It was her first and only work. Avalon lost a great scholar when she married your father. She could have been as well known as William of Cambria given time.”
“Who is William of Cambria?”
Geoffrey went to the piles of books again and pulled out a particularly thick one. “This is his best known work, 'The Bestiary'; it's required reading for all students.”
Arthur eyed the book. It looked long and boring. “What else do students have to read?”
All of the books Geoffrey had brought it seemed. The librarian went through them one by one extolling the virtues of each. There was 'Basic Elemental Magic and Practical Application' by a Nimueh Lake, 'A Guide to the Herbs of Avalon and Their Medicinal Uses' authored by Gaius, 'On Destiny: Magical Philosophy' by one Professor Kilgarrah, and various others aimed at first year students just starting to learn magic.
“And I have to read all of these?” Arthur asked in disbelief.
“And learn it,” Gaius said, sternly.
Geoffrey looked disappointed. “There's a great deal of learning in those books,” he said.
Arthur would have made some remark, but then Gaius spoke, shooting Arthur a look to tell him to keep quiet.
“Well, it's been a long day for Arthur,” Gaius said. “He should get some rest.”
“Of course,” Geoffrey replied. “Don't want him to miss the train to Camelot tomorrow.”
Arthur frowned. “Train?”
“I'll explain more about your travel arrangements in the morning,” Gaius said, and he went to see Geoffrey out.
Arthur was left alone to get ready for bed. He'd forgotten to actually pack any pyjamas but magically some appeared on the bed as he went through his rucksack. It was another odd thing that Arthur felt a little disturbed by.
That night Arthur lay in the strange bed reading his mother's book. As he read, he tried to imagine her voice, imagine her reading the book to him. Some of the content was made up of fairy stories and Arthur wondered if Ygraine would have read such tales to him as a child, or if even fairy stories would have been too much magic for his father.
As he fell asleep, he could almost hear her whispering in his ear about princes and wizards and magical kingdoms.
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The next morning, it took a while for Arthur to realise where he was. Oddly, he wasn't panicking or worried, despite being in unfamiliar surroundings. The bed was comfortable, and though he felt a pang of guilt at what his father would be doing or thinking, it soon passed. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, only to see Gaius standing at the foot of his bed.
“Ah, so you are awake. You better get dressed. Breakfast is ready and you've got a very busy day ahead of you,” Gaius said. “I'll leave you to get ready.” Arthur heard the door creak as Gaius left the room.
There was no sign of a shower or a bathroom but there was a chamber pot and a bowl with a jug of warm water and some soap. It wasn't what Arthur was used to but he managed to get himself clean and dressed by the time Gaius came back.
They sat down to breakfast which consisted of eggs, bacon, and toast. Gaius had apparently already eaten as he just sat and watched as Arthur tucked in. It was slightly unnerving and Arthur found he wasn’t hungry. Although Gaius's gaze guilted him into eating most of what had been put in front of him.
“We'll have to leave soon to catch the train,” Gaius said.
“What train?” Arthur asked around a mouthful of bacon.
“The train to Camelot. Everything you need is all packed up,” Gaius said, waving a hand over to where there was an old fashioned trunk. “All of your books and some clothes.”
“How did you get my clothes?” Arthur asked.
“Your sister was kind enough to help with that. You'll see Morgana when you get to Camelot.”
That reassured Arthur, as Morgana at least gave him the hope of some answers. He could just about buy that magic existed but beyond that he wasn't sure.
“Are you all right, Arthur?” Gaius asked.
“I feel fine,” Arthur replied. He hadn't suffered a headache since he'd arrived with Gaius.
“You'll feel a lot better here,” Gaius said. “Your magic will be calmer.”
Perhaps that explained the absence of headaches. Arthur still didn't feel as if he had magic though. He was sure he would be able to feel something. At the moment all he felt was slightly sick from eating too fast.
Gaius was in a hurry though. Arthur had barely had time to drink his tea before Gaius was badgering him to get ready to go. Arthur put his jacket on, put his rucksack over his shoulder and dragged the trunk to the door.
“I'm ready,” he said.
Gaius seemed to appraise him for a moment. “Good,” he said. “Follow me and keep up. We've got to make sure you catch the train.”
When the door opened Arthur saw a dark corridor, with the same panels of dark wood that were in the room he'd stayed in. The floorboards creaked as he walked over them, and he was sure there were cobwebs dotted around. The whole place smelt old and musty.
Gaius led the way down a dark and narrow staircase at the end of the corridor. It was a struggle for Arthur to get the trunk down the stairs without it landing on his foot. For an old man, Gaius moved surprisingly quickly.
When they reached the bottom, Arthur noticed the floor had changed to stone flags rather than floorboards. The floor was no cleaner though. It seemed they were in a bar; there were tables dotted about and quite a few people sat and talking - some quite loudly.
Suddenly, the noise stopped and all eyes turned toward Arthur. The bar was silent as Gaius led him through the area, weaving between the tables. Arthur could feel the gazes of every person in the bar on him, and he didn’t know why. Perhaps they could see he was an interloper, an imposter who didn’t have magic.
In one corner of the bar was a small door. Gaius opened it and ushered Arthur in. It was a bit of a squeeze to get himself, his rucksack and his trunk through. They had to go down an even smaller rickety staircase and there was no light. That was until Gaius muttered something and the space was suddenly illuminated by bright blue light hovering above them.
The room seemed to be a cellar of some sort, which made sense if they were indeed in an inn. Arthur could make out barrels stored against the wall. Gaius led the way across the stone flags to another door, which was smaller again.
“I have the key somewhere,” he said, searching through his robes.
“Where are we?” Arthur said.
“At a portal,” Gaius replied. “I suppose you could call it that. Ah, found the key.” He held up an old rusted piece of metal that at one point probably had been a key.
He put it in the lock and turned it. There was an odd rumbling sound, as if it wasn't one lock being unlocked but hundreds. Arthur watched and the door seemed to tremble. When the sound stopped Gaius pulled something else out of his robes.
“Here is your ticket,” he said, handing over an envelope. “Now, the train leaves in fifteen minutes so don't be late.”
Arthur still had no idea where he was going. “How am I supposed to catch a train from here?” he asked.
Gaius said nothing, but pushed open the door to reveal a bustling train station. Arthur thought it looked familiar, but he didn’t have time to say anything as Gaius bundled him and his luggage out. When Arthur turned back to say something, the door had vanished and he was left standing in the middle of a busy railway station with no idea where he was going.
Remembering the envelope, Arthur opened it and took out a golden ticket with black lettering on it. It wasn’t like any train ticket he'd ever seen before. He read the ticket slowly.
Camelot University Express
Student: Arthur Pendragon
Departing 11.30AM Platform 14.5
What sort of a platform was that, he wondered? Glancing up he realised why the station was so familiar. He was in London Euston station, of all places. As far as he knew, Euston didn't have a platform 14.5.
Since he couldn't just stand around, he began to head in the general direction of platform 14 in the hope he could find a member of staff to help him. He studied his ticket in more detail as he walked, hauling his trunk behind him. He didn't notice the young man in front of him until he bumped into him.
“Watch where you’re going,” he said, out of frustration and habit.
The boy, who was dark haired and seemed about Arthur's age, turned around. “I wasn't the one not looking where he was going, idiot.”
“Idiot? At least I have some manners.”
“Oh yes, telling people to watch where they're going is very polite.”
“I have a lot of things on my mind. Important things an idiot like you couldn’t possibly understand.”
“Oh really? Well at least I understand how to be nice to people I've bumped into because I've not been looking where I was going.”
Arthur was about to say something further, when a woman's voice called in their direction. “Merlin! Come on, you don’t want to miss the train.”
Giving Arthur a defiant glare, the boy, Merlin, left and headed off toward a woman who was probably his mother.
Arthur sighed and glanced at the clock. The little run in he'd just had had cost him five minutes he couldn't afford to lose. He looked around for a staff member to ask, but, typically, he couldn't see one. He did hear a couple of girls his age giggling.
“I can't wait until we get to Camelot,” one was saying. “Apparently they're opening the chess team this year to first years. They said something about reducing the magic in the pieces to make them safer.”
Arthur barely understood what the girl was saying but he latched onto the word 'Camelot'. He saw the girls walking away from him and began to follow them; it seemed as if they knew where they were going. They were heading to platform fourteen. As Arthur watched they walked along the platform but then suddenly vanished.
Arthur stared. The girls had seemed to disappear into thin air. He couldn't see them anywhere; it didn't make any sense. How was he supposed to get on a non-existent platform? He really doubted he could actually say to a member staff that he'd seen two girls vanish and he needed to do the same.
Luckily, he then saw a woman seemingly reappear out of nowhere. He recognised her as the mother of Merlin, the boy he'd bumped into earlier. She smiled when she saw him, and came over. Arthur was holding his ticket in plain view, and wondered if that was what the woman had noticed.
“You don't know how to get onto the platform?” she asked.
Arthur nodded. “I'm just supposed to disappear?” he asked.
The woman laughed. “No, you need to walk forward, past the rune on the platform and just push through the barrier.”
“What's a rune and what barrier?”
“Come with me” she said, taking his arm. “I'm guessing you were brought up mundane? No magic?”
“No magic at all,” Arthur said. “I don't think I have magic.”
“You have a ticket,” she said. “You have magic.”
Arthur decided he didn't really want to argue with a woman who was obviously trying to be helpful. “Thank you.”
“Come with me,” she said, leading Arthur further along the platform. She stopped before a strange mark on the platform, something that Arthur hadn't noticed before. “This is the rune,” she said. “Walk forward a little.”
Feeling a little foolish Arthur did as he was told. He felt something push back against him, as if the air was suddenly thick with resistance.
“Close your eyes and push past it,” the woman said.
Before Arthur could protest, he felt a shove at his back and then he felt as if he was pushing through some sort of barrier. There was a whooshing noise in his ears, before the sounds around him changed. He could hear laughter and movement all around. He opened his eyes and found himself standing on an old fashioned, Victorian-style platform. He glanced up and saw the sign: 'Platform 14.5'.
Blinking, Arthur looked around. He wasn't sure how he had ended up here. He wondered if perhaps the woman he had talked to had magic. She might have been the one to transport him here, he thought, just like Gaius had. There was a hissing noise and Arthur noticed the large red steam engine in front of him. He read the name on it - Camelot Express. This mythical university had its own train.
“Come along now, hurry up,” a man, in what looked like knight's clothing, was saying.
Arthur just stared.
“Come on,” the man said. “The train will be leaving soon. Get on board.”
Arthur and his luggage were swept up in a mass of students that had been milling around. Now they were rushing forward toward the train. Arthur felt himself being pushed and jostled by the people around him. It was hard to keep hold of his trunk, and he felt his rucksack being squashed from all sides.
“Hey! Watch it!” he said but his protests were drowned out by the melee.
Eventually he made it onto the train. The coaches were old fashioned and had compartments. Everyone else seemed eager and were busily cramming themselves into ones with their friends. Arthur had no friends, he knew no one in this strange world. He was more than a little envious of the people around him talking easily to one another and laughing with excitement.
He wandered through the coach, squeezing himself and his luggage down the narrow aisle, looking for somewhere to sit, just a quiet corner where no one would notice he was an imposter. Maybe if the train stopped somewhere, he could get off and find a way home, although for all Arthur knew he was in a different country or a parallel universe.
Finally, he found a carriage that had only one occupant. Unfortunately, the occupant was the boy he'd bumped into at the station. Merlin, Arthur recalled. He was the last person Arthur wanted to be stuck near on a long train journey, but he had no choice. Everywhere else was taken.
The compartment was cramped and already pretty full of luggage. There was an owl in a cage on the seat next to Merlin that seemed to be asleep. Merlin himself appeared to be reading a thick old book, rather like the ones Geoffrey had shown him. Several books covered the rest of Merlin's seat, but the one opposite was clear and free.
Arthur stepped inside. “Excuse me,” he said in his politest voice. “Is anyone sitting here?” he asked, indicating the seat opposite Merlin.
Merlin, who had been reading a book, looked up. “You're on the train?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, trying to keep his tone polite. “I'm sorry for bumping into you at the train station.”
Merlin smiled. “It's okay,” he said. “I had a lot on my mind.” He closed his book and left it on his lap. “Come in and sit down. We'll be setting off any minute now.”
As if Merlin had uttered prophetic words the train gave a lurch and began to move. Arthur was practically thrown into the compartment, tripping over luggage, and as he tried to regain his balance, he fell forward and onto Merlin.
“You've bumped into me again,” Merlin said, but there was no malice in his voice.
“I'm sorry,” Arthur said, uncomfortably aware of his closeness to Merlin. In the last few months Arthur had figured out he might very possibly be bisexual if not gay and the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in front of a stranger.
He quickly got off Merlin, and smiled nervously. Another lurch of the train sent him hurtling into his seat; Merlin seemed very amused.
“It isn't funny, Merlin,” he said as he got up to haul his trunk in. He took his rucksack off and placed it on the seat.
“It is,” Merlin said. “And I don't even know your name.”
“Arthur,” he said, offering a hand. “Arthur Pendragon.”
Merlin looked shocked, too shocked to take Arthur's proffered handshake. “The Arthur Pendragon?” he asked.
“I'm the only Arthur Pendragon I know,” Arthur said, sitting down on the slightly lumpy seat.
Merlin suddenly seemed to get very excited. “I can't believe it! The Arthur Pendragon. Son of Ygraine. We've all heard stories, but I didn't think you'd actually be here. I mean of course you can be here, you're the right age and everyone gets their letter but we all thought you’d been held captive by your mundane father or something. I mean the rumours --”
“Merlin!” Arthur said. “Can you please tell me what are you talking about?”
“You're Arthur Pendragon.”
Arthur was beginning to wonder if everyone he met in this world was going to be oddly eccentric. “I think we established that.”
“The child who lived,” Merlin said, flailing his arms about a little.
“Well I'm not dead.” Arthur was confused.
“Of course not but...” Merlin paused. “You don't know?
“Don't know what?”
“About Him.”
“Who?”
Merlin bit his lip. “I can't say his name; it's bad luck.”
“Spell it then.”
Leaning forward Merlin whispered. “M R O D D E R.”
“Mordder?
Still whispering, Merlin spoke again. “No M R and then O D D E R.”
“Mr Odder? What kind of a name's that?” Arthur asked, frowning.
“Shhh!” Merlin whispered loudly. “He might hear you.”
“Is he on the train?” Arthur asked, looking around. The compartment was empty, apart from the two of them and Merlin's owl.
Merlin looked outside the window. “They say he never really died, that he's out there somewhere waiting to return.”
“Merlin, who is he, why is he not really dead, and what are you talking about?”
Merlin turned back to face Arthur. “I keep forgetting you were brought up mundane.”
It was a word Arthur recognised. “What does that mean? People keep talking about it.”
“It means without magic. Mundanes are people without magic.”
“Well that's me then.”
Merlin shook his head. “No, you have magic. If you didn't, you wouldn’t be here, and there's no way you could not have magic, what with your mother being who she was.”
His mother. Arthur's heart beat harder. He knew so little about her, but it seemed here she was well known by everyone he talked to. Perhaps Merlin could tell him more about her. “What about my mother? What do you know about her?”
“She was a great sorcerer. My mum always said Ygraine DuBois could have become a teacher at Camelot if she'd wanted to, or become one of the great magical scholars.”
“My mother was a witch.” Arthur tested the phrase.
“Well, we use the term sorcerer more now. A sort of politically correct thing,” Merlin said, waving a hand.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, so your mother being a talented sorcerer must mean you'll be.”
“I don't have magic.”
“Of course you do. Anyone can tell that.” Merlin smiled.
Arthur suspected Merlin was humouring him, so he changed the subject back to his mother. “What about my mother? And this Mr... Him.”
“I shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”
“Merlin, a few days ago I was at home wondering where to take my gap year. Now I'm on a train in some weird magical universe and people are talking about things I'm supposed to know about but don't,” Arthur didn't mind that he sounded a little desperate. “Please.”
Just then the owl that had been asleep in his cage squawked. Merlin looked at him.
“Looks like Archimedes thinks I should tell you, too,” he said.
“You called your owl Archimedes?”
“It's an old family name.”
There was an uncomfortable pause. “So are you going to take your owl's advice?” Arthur asked.
Merlin bit his lip before nodding. “Just don't tell anyone I told you,” he said.
“I promise.”
Merlin was still leaning forward, but not as much as before. He didn’t whisper, but kept his voice low. “Okay, the first thing you need to know is there are good sorcerers and bad sorcerers. Magic isn't good or evil it's how you use it and some people decide to use it for well, bad things.”
Merlin shuddered a little and clearly didn't want to elaborate on what the bad things actually were.
“Go on,” Arthur encouraged.
“Him was one of those. He had a lot of magic, more than a lot of other sorcerers, and thought magic gave him the power to rule others. He was an evil sorcerer who killed mundanes and sorcerers.” Merlin gave Arthur a look.
The pieces fell into place. “He killed my mother?”
“Yes. But you survived.”
“I survived?” Arthur could hear his heart beating in his ears. “You mean she was pregnant when he...”
Merlin nodded. “Your mother gave her life to protect you. She took the entire killing curse on herself. She traded her future for yours.”
“She died when I was born.”
“But you lived,” Merlin said, a little louder. “No one else who ever came up against him did.”
The idea was almost too fantastical for Arthur to comprehend. “What happened to him?”
“No one knows but after he killed your mother and tried to kill you, he disappeared. He’s not been seen for eighteen years. They think he's dead. Or they like to think he is.”
“So you're telling me, my mother was killed by an evil sorcerer?”
Merlin looked guilty. “I shouldn't have told you. I'm sorry, Arthur.”
“No. My father...My father never talks about her. I thought it was just too painful. The idea it's because she had magic. It's too hard to believe.”
Merlin offered him a sympathetic smile. “I know.” He pursed his lips. “I mean I don't know how hard it is to find out your mother had magic, but I found it hard to understand why not everyone has magic. It's a different world.”
“I belong there. I don't belong on a train heading to a magical university.”
“But you're here.”
“Very good at stating the obvious, Merlin.”
Merlin leaned back more. “Thank you,” he grinned.
Not wanting to dwell too much on this new knowledge Arthur changed the subject. “What about you? You have magic? Do your parents?”
“Yeah. My mum has low level magic, but my dad's a Dragon Lord. He breeds wyverns. We live on a dragon reserve. Just outside Ealdor.”
“What's a wyvern?”
“Erm...it's a type of dragon. I have a picture; hang on.”
As Arthur watched, Merlin made a strange sort of movement in the air with his hand and suddenly what looked like a photograph floated in front of the window.
“How did you do that?”
“Magic. Don't you have pictures?”
Arthur looked at the image. It appeared to be moving. He recognised the woman who had shown how to get on the platform: Merlin’s mother. Next to her was a man who looked a little like Merlin with a beard and long hair. They were standing between two grey creatures that did look a little like dragons. “Not ones like that.”
“That's my Dad with Cadwr and Angharat,” Merlin said, pointing to the man and then the creatures.
“He breeds them?”
“A lot of magical creatures are endangered. Dragons are really rare now. Dragon Lords are trying to save them.”
“What's a Dragon Lord?”
Merlin's face lit up with pride. “Oh, Dragon Lords can talk to the dragons, tame them. I can't. Not yet, but one day I will.”
“So you're a Dragon Lord?”
Merlin nodded, waving his hand to make the picture vanish. “Well, the son of one. The gift is passed from father to son.”
Arthur was full of more questions now he had finally found someone to answer them but before he could ask anything more, Merlin had picked up a small suitcase and was eyeing Arthur.
“What?”
“Are you hungry? My mum packed me more food than I can eat, and Archimedes doesn't really like cake.”
Realising he hadn't had anything to eat since that morning (it had to be well past lunchtime by now) and he was hungry, Arthur gratefully accepted. “Thank you, Merlin.”
Merlin picked out a large slice of cake from the suitcase and handed it to Arthur.
“This is good,”Arthur said as he munched on the soft sponge.
Merlin spoke with his mouth full as he tucked into his own slice. “Mum's not a bad cook. Does it all without magic too. She says too much magic is cheating.”
“How often do you cheat?”
“Not that often,” Merlin mumbled.
Arthur laughed, as he suspected from Merlin's slight blush he wasn't being entirely honest.
“Your mother was the one who helped me find the platform,” Arthur said. “Would you thank her for me?”
“I'll tell her in my first letter home.”
“Tell her I enjoy her cake too,” Arthur said. “How do you send letters?”
Merlin smiled. “Well there's transparting, owl or smoke.”
Arthur continued to eat his cake. “Tell me more,” he said.
They continued to talk as they ate. Once Arthur had started asking Merlin questions he couldn’t get Merlin to shut up. It seemed Merlin, having grown up with magic, didn’t really have much chance to talk about it with anyone, and his enthusiasm was infectious.
PART TWO
Arthur Pendragon and the Philosopher's Sword Part 1
Prologue
To most people King Drive looked like any other suburban street. The houses were all styled the same, all made of the same beige coloured brick. Each front garden had the same size immaculate lawn. The cars on the driveway were similar models and colours, all corporate company cars. There was nothing particularly special or unique about it.
It was, in fact, rather boring and ordinary. Unlike the people currently standing across from number four.
“I wish we didn't have to leave him there,” Nimueh said, looking at the living room window. Despite it being daytime the curtains were drawn.
Beside her an older man in red robes looked sympathetic. “You know what Kilgharrah said,” Gaius replied. “It's not time yet.”
“He is Ygraine's son! He should be part of our world,” Nimueh said, the energy around her crackling.
Gaius put a hand on her arm. “Calm yourself, Nimueh. One day he will be. Uther is his father, the only family he has now; he will take care of him.”
“In a mundane way,” Nimueh said bitterly, although the energy around her calmed.
“And that's what Arthur needs right now,” Gaius replied.
Nimueh said nothing, as at that moment the curtains twitched. Taking this as a sign to leave they whispered a few words and simply vanished.
******************************************************************************
Eighteen years later....
The letter came on a Tuesday afternoon at 3PM. Arthur remembered because he had become attuned to the noise of the letterbox after anxiously waiting for his A-level results (which were good, but not enough for his first choice university to his father's disappointment. Even though Arthur had been planning a gap year anyway). He got up from his comfortable position on the sofa where he'd been messing about playing an FIFA game on his X-Box.
Stretching, he went to see what had been posted through the letterbox this late in the afternoon. The normal post had already come, and the last thing Arthur wanted was for Morgana to snatch the letter from under his nose. He wanted to read it before his sister if he could. She'd already gained too much blackmail material on him during the summer holidays.
As Arthur reached the door, he saw a single, thick-looking envelope on the mat and bent down to pick it up. The paper felt odd and thick; it felt old. It was slightly browned and oddly stained and the writing on it seemed old-fashioned. It was handwritten and hard to read.
Squinting, Arthur managed to make out the words:
'Mr Arthur Pendragon
4 King Drive
Albion'
That was it; there was no postcode. Arthur noticed the envelope didn't even have a stamp on it, which meant the letter had to have been hand delivered.
Who on earth would hand deliver a letter to him? Arthur could think of no one. Barely anyone wrote to him at all, except for postcards from his mates whose parents had let them go abroad to celebrate their exams, so the idea of a hand-delivered letter made no sense.
Flipping the letter over, he noticed the letter was sealed with dark red wax. The seal appeared to have the symbol of a dragon on it. Even more confused now, Arthur wondered if it was some big hoax. Maybe it contained some sort of powder that would blow up in his face.
“Who's it for?” came Morgana's voice.
Arthur looked up to see her coming down the stairs.
“It's for me,” he replied. “So, if you don’t mind leaving me alone....”
Morgana came down the stairs, and tried to look over his shoulder to get a glimpse. “Is your ex-girlfriend writing to you again? What was her name? Sil something?”
Arthur moved out of the hallway and back into the living room, Morgana still at his shoulder, proving that sisters were born to be annoying. “Silvia, and, no, this letter isn't from her. I don’t think this is her writing.” Arthur held up the letter briefly so Morgana could see the address.
“You've got a letter!” Morgana practically shrieked.
“I think we've already established that.”
“No, I mean you've got a letter. The letter. Father will go mad when he finds out.” Morgana clapped her hands in delight.
Arthur half suspected Morgana had sent the thing as a joke.
“Well, go on then,” she said, nudging him. “Open it.”
“It's my letter,” Arthur said. “I'll decide when I open it. I'm not opening it just because you want me to.” He was not giving Morgana the satisfaction of seeing his reaction.
“I know what it says anyway,” Morgana said, turning to leave the room. “I just wanted to see your face.”
“So you did send this!”
“Arthur, you're not worth the trouble,” Morgana replied and left the room. No doubt heading upstairs to go and do whatever it was she did that required her to lock her door so often.
Arthur sat down on the sofa and fingered the envelope while trying to work out the psychological machinations of his elder sister. Had Morgana acted like it was no big deal so he would open the letter? Was it a double bluff? Was she waiting outside in the hall?
Getting up, Arthur stuck his head around the door but there was no sign of her. Carefully closing the living room door he went back over to the sofa. Falling back and letting himself sink into the cushions, he took a good long look at the envelope.
The handwriting, the seal, the paper - - it all seemed a lot of effort for a joke. The more he held it, the more Arthur's fingertips began to tingle. He flexed them, but the tingle remained. Something about the letter did intrigue him.
With a last look toward the door, Arthur broke the seal and pulled out a thickly folded letter. The letter was made from the same thick, old-looking paper as the envelope. He unfolded it and saw that the letter was written in the same odd handwriting as the address. He read it silently, re-reading to make sense of the hard-to-read words.
'Dear Mr Arthur Pendragon,
It is with great pleasure that I inform you that you have been accepted to study at Camelot University for the Magically Gifted.
You are to start the new semester on 1st September.
Further instructions and information about your travel arrangements will be sent to you by post tomorrow.
Yours sincerely,
Professor Gaius Gideon
On behalf of Professor Kilgharrah; Chancellor of Camelot University'
The letter made no sense to Arthur. As far as he knew there was no such university, let alone one he had applied to, and what was this about being magically gifted? Arthur Pendragon was as normal as they came.
Yes, sometimes odd things happened when he was playing footie, like that time the ball seemed to move without him touching it. Yes, there were a few weird marks on his wall that looked like scorch-marks, but that was nothing. He wasn't a wizard; he didn't own a wand or a pointy hat and he certainly didn't know any spells.
Frowning, he shoved the letter into his pocket and forgot about it until dinner.
******************************************************************************
Around the dinner table conversation was as stilted as always. Arthur's father, Uther, knew how to discuss the stock market with his friends and what to talk about when playing golf but the art of decent conversation with his children was something he had never mastered. It was a pity as it had just been the three of them for as long as Arthur had been alive.
Arthur was passing his father the salt when Morgana spoke up.
“Arthur got a letter today,” she said, smiling, before taking a bite of lasagne.
“And this is news, Morgana?” Uther asked. “I'm sure Arthur gets plenty of post.”
Morgana swallowed. “Not like this,” she said. “He got the letter.”
As Arthur watched, his father suddenly appeared to pale. His knuckles went white where he gripped his fork. He turned to Arthur. “Is this true?” he asked, his voice sounding angry.
“I got a letter, Father,” Arthur replied. “It's just a joke.”
“Let me see it.”
Not sure what was going on or what had caused his father to be so angry, Arthur pulled the letter out of his pocket and handed it to him.
Arthur watched as his father read it and then firmly screwed it up. “You will forget about this, Arthur,” he said. “You will pretend you never saw this.”
His father was acting very strangely over a letter that seemed to be nothing more than an elaborate hoax. “Yes, Father.”
To Arthur's surprise, Morgana stood up from her seat on the opposite side of the table. “You can't do that!” She said. “Arthur has a right to know.”
“There is nothing for him to know,” Uther said, his voice strained and his face becoming red in his anger. “You'll not mention the letter again either.”
“Try and stop me,” Morgana said, turning and storming out the room, slamming the door behind her.
Arthur hadn’t seen Morgana this angry at Uther for two years. He hadn't been privy to what had happened back then and it appeared he wasn't going to be allowed to know what was going on now. “Father?”
“It's best if you forget all about this,” Uther said, getting up from the table.
Arthur nodded and picked at his food. Normally he could forget it but he felt he was missing something, something very important. From the way his father had reacted, it was obvious there was far more to the letter than he had originally thought. Now he wondered if he should have handed it over so casually.
Uther had gone over to the fireplace, throwing the letter on the wood. They had a real fire, but as they had central heating, it was rarely lit. Now Uther was bent over striking a match, and, as Arthur watched, Uther set fire to the letter and watched it burn.
As the flames consumed the paper, Arthur was sure he could hear crying. He was angry and confused, and his head had begun to hurt, but he felt powerless to challenge his father. He wasn't like Morgana who stood up to their father daily.
Arthur didn't notice that, as the paper turned to black ashes, the glass holding his water cracked.
******************************************************************************
The atmosphere in the house was strained that night. Arthur went up to his room to stay out of the way of his father who was in the foulest mood Arthur could ever remember. He spent most of his time lying on his bed, flicking through the TV channels and playing with his iPod, only venturing out to grab a biscuit and a can of coke from the kitchen.
Making his way downstairs he saw Morgana knock on the door to their father's office, and heard Uther tell her to come in. Arthur knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but he couldn't help it as he crept down the stairs and along the hall to get a better position.
He could hear their raised voices through the door. He hardly had to listen in.
“He is not going and that is final!” he could hear his father yell.
“You have no right to stop him. Arthur is like his mother. You can choose to ignore that but it doesn’t change anything.”
Arthur frowned as he listened. He took after his mother in appearance, one reason he and Morgana barely looked related at all rather than half sibilings, but what on earth could Morgana mean?
“Ygraine gave all that up when we married.”
“But not when she made the choice to protect Arthur.”
“What happened eighteen years ago is history. I swore that I'd make sure Arthur was never part of that.”
Arthur was curious. Part of what? What had his mother been part of before she'd married his father? Not some sort of cult? From the way his father was talking that was what it sounded like. He rubbed his temples as his head started to hurt.
“You can’t make the decision!”
“As long as he lives in this house I can and I will. Arthur is my son and he lives by my rules. Just because I promised your mother on her deathbed doesn't mean I like you going there.”
“And what about Arthur's mother? What about her dying wishes?”
“You have no right to speak about that. Get out!”
Arthur lurched away from the door as Morgana flung it open and stormed out. She paused as she saw Arthur standing there, trying to look as if he hadn't been eavesdropping. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.
Arthur wanted to ask 'sorry for what?' but the words wouldn’t come. Losing all interest in getting a drink Arthur headed back upstairs. He was frustrated. Whatever was going on involved him, and clearly Morgana knew more about it than he did. Morgana knew something about his own mother he didn't know. It wasn't fair or right. She wasn’t Morgana's mother, why did Morgana know?
Arthur flung himself back on his bed, the sheets still rumpled from lounging on it earlier. He sighed, and rubbed his temples; his head was still throbbing. Another headache, just what he needed. He'd been suffering from them all year. At first he thought they were related to his exams and the intensive studying and cramming sessions he'd had to do, but they had continued on into the summer and painkillers had no effect.
Closing his eyes, he decided to try and relax a little. Maybe a short nap would help.
He hadn't seemed to have closed his eyes for long when he was woken up by Morgana yelling.
“Arthur! You better come down here!”
Arthur yawned and rubbed his eyes. He wondered if he hadn't imagined Morgana yelling until he heard her again.
“Arthur! Now!”
Morgana sounded very insistent. Shaking his head, Arthur got up off the bed, it took some effort. He went slowly to the door trying to wake himself up a bit. When he had made it out of his room he found Morgana was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. She was looking worried.
“You took your time,” she said.
“What's going on?” Arthur asked, still feeling a little fuzzy from sleep.
“Professor Gaius is talking to Father about your admission.”
“What on earth are you talking about, Morgana?” Arthur asked, stretching his stiff arms.
Morgana leaned close. “We don’t have much time but the letter you got, Arthur, that was real. Magic is real and you have it. Uther doesn't want you to attend Camelot.”
“What do you mean, it's real?” Arthur felt confused.
“Believe me, Arthur, please. You need to see Gaius.” Morgana shoved him toward the study door.
He could hear voices inside, one of them his father's. Arthur hovered outside, not sure if he should enter.
“Come in, Arthur,” came a voice that was not his father's. This voice was more cheerful and older sounding.
Gingerly, Arthur opened the door. Standing near his father was an older man with white hair, and what appeared to be faded blue robes. “Ah, Arthur, it's good to see you,” the man said, coming over and clasping Arthur's hand.
Arthur shook it out of politeness. “Do I know you?”
“How like your mother you are,” the man said. “I knew her well.”
“You knew my mother?”
“You will not speak to him,” Uther said.
The man stepped back from Arthur and turned toward Uther. “He has every right to know the truth, Uther. Please. It was Ygraine's dying wish....”
“And I will not have him hurt the way she was, Gaius.”
“Will someone please tell me what's going on?” Arthur asked, feeling lost. He'd caught his father calling the other man Gaius and Morgana had called him Professor for some reason. He remembered the name on the letter had been Professor Gaius.
“Your mother,” Gaius began, “was a great sorceress. One of the most gifted I've ever known. After she met your father of course she gave it up, but her gifts will have been passed onto you. You're a sorcerer, Arthur.”
“He is not!”
“I am not!”
Uther and Arthur spoke simultaneously.
“You're only just of age,” Gaius said. “Your powers will just be emerging. That's why you need to come to Camelot; to study, to learn and to put your gifts to good use.”
“I don’t have any gifts,” Arthur said. “I'm normal.” Even if his headache had returned as a dull ache behind his eyes. He could feel the pain starting to spread.
“There has been no evidence of magic,” Uther said.
“Because you have chosen to ignore it,” Gaius said. “Kilgharrah is never wrong.”
Arthur’s head was now throbbing all over. He felt as if he should know exactly what they were talking about but he didn’t. The names were almost familiar; he could almost place them. Something about Gaius, magic and Kilgharrah. If only his head would stop hurting.
“What are you talking about?!” he yelled.
At that moment, the whiskey glass on his father's desk shattered. As it did so, Arthur's head suddenly felt lighter.
“There you see,” Gaius said.
“I didn't do anything!” Arthur protested, staring at the remains of the glass, all sharp, jagged edges.
Uther was staring at him in shock. “You're a...”
Arthur backed away slowly. His father looked pale half in fear and half in anger. “Father...”
Gaius took his arm. “I think it would be best for everyone right now if we left. Pack what you can and meet me outside in five minutes.” Gaius pushed him toward the door of Uther's study. “Go, hurry.”
Arthur looked back at his father who had by now collapsed in his chair and was staring at the whiskey glass. Arthur wanted to say something but the urgent look on Gaius's face told him now was not the time. He left the room and ran upstairs.
Morgana was waiting for him in his room, already stuffing things into his rucksack, the one he'd bought for his gap year travelling the world. Now it seemed she wanted him to run away from home with it.
“I've packed you some toiletries, your iPod, your phone and some money,” she informed him. “I was also going to pack a few T-shirts and some pairs of jeans, but I know how you feel about your clothes.”
Arthur just dumbly stared at her as she rushed about the room, pulling out underwear and socks and stuffing them into the rucksack. “I'm not going anywhere,” he said quietly.
Morgana stopped and turned to him. Without warning she gave him a hug. Morgana never hugged him. “You are,” she said. “Arthur, I know you're scared but trust me, you need to go with Gaius.”
“How on earth can you know how I feel?” Arthur asked.
Morgana turned to where the rucksack lay on the bed. She whispered something and the two pairs of socks next to it suddenly floated up and then down into the bag. “I know exactly what it's like,” she said, quietly. Turning back, she smiled. “This is for the best.”
“I can't just leave father....” Arthur protested. “Not like that.”
“He needs time,” Morgana said. “Trust me, Arthur.”
Despite the craziness that had overtaken his life in the past half hour, Arthur did trust her. Morgana had always been there for him since they were children, despite their sometimes strained relationship. He nodded. “I just want to know what's going on.”
Morgana gave him a sympathetic look. “You will,” she said.
“I know. I trust you,” Arthur said, half tempted to roll his eyes.
Morgana gave him another hug and pushed him towards the bed to finish his packing. Arthur felt a bit sick but he did want answers and it seemed that he wasn't going to get them from his father. He wanted to know what had happened with the glass, what his mother had been, why there was so much he felt he should know but was just out of his reach.
He shoved a couple of T-shirts and two pairs of jeans into his rucksack. He chose his plainer ones given he had no idea where he would be going. Somehow he had a feeling that it wouldn't be the sort of place where people would understand any witty T-shirt slogans.
Everything fit nicely into his rucksack, which had been designed for this, although Arthur didn't think he'd be off hiking anywhere. He grabbed his jacket and put it on before flinging the rucksack over his back. A quick glance at his watch showed he'd already kept Gaius waiting for over five minutes.
Morgana pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and pushed a glass ball into his hand. “So you don't forget,” she whispered.
Arthur studied the thing, confused. It seemed just a trinket like the sort Morgana bought all the time from the weird new age shop on the high-street. “Thank you,” he said. He appreciated the thought behind the gift, even if it seemed unhelpful. When he got outside his room he shoved the ball deep in his rucksack, hoping to protect it by packing his clothes around it.
He made his way downstairs, half expecting his father to be at the door to stop him, but he wasn't. Arthur was unsure whether to be relieved or not. Part of him wanted his father to be there, to stop him leaving but somehow Arthur had known he wouldn't be. He opened the door quietly and stepped outside.
Gaius was waiting for him at the end of the drive. Arthur walked toward him, feeling more than a little nervous as he felt the cool night air on his face. He wasn't sure whether to return the smile Gaius was giving him or not.
“You’ve got your things?” he asked.
“A few things, yes,” Arthur said. In his rucksack was probably less than he'd even think to bring camping, but he hadn't had time to really think about what to pack.
“Good,” Gaius said. “We can go then.”
One thing that hadn't escaped Arthur's notice was that there was no strange car parked anywhere on the street. “Are we taking the train?” he asked. “Or a bus?”
Gaius looked thoughtful. “We could take the bus but I believe speed is of the essence.”
Without warning, he grabbed Arthur's arm, muttered something that sounded like 'forþweg' and his eyes flashed gold. Arthur felt as if he was gently being tugged but then the feeling became stronger, as if his whole body was being pulled. Everything around seemed to distort and swirl around him. Then everything went black.
******************************************************************************
When Arthur came to, he found himself lying on a slightly dusty, bare floor. It wasn't very comfortable so Arthur moved to sit up. As he did so his head felt light and dizzy and his joints tingled. It was disconcerting.
“Here, drink this,” came Gaius's voice, breaking through the hazy feeling in Arthur's head.
A cup of something was pressed into Arthur's hand. Despite his dizziness he eyed the concoction in the glass carefully. It looked thick, green, and very unappealing.
“It will make you feel better,” Gaius said.
For all Arthur knew it could have been poison, but considering he'd been standing on his drive not moments earlier, he didn’t have a choice. Plus, he was starting to feel worse. Closing his eyes, he drank the contents of the cup in one.
A bitter taste assaulted his throat and he coughed once he'd drunk it all. “What was that?” he asked, screwing his face up at the taste.
“A restorative,” Gaius said, taking the empty cup from him. “Transparating for the first time can take its toll on the body.”
Arthur was starting to feel much better. His joints no longer tingled and the dizziness was fading. He felt well enough to try and stand up. “What's Transper-- whatever it was?” he asked.
“The act of magically transporting yourself from one place to another,” Gaius replied, helping Arthur to his feet.
Arthur brushed the dust from his jeans and looked around. The room was fairly dull and old looking. The walls were a dark, rich wood panelling, with odd carvings of what looked like monsters dotted about here and there. The ceiling looked as if it hadn't been painted or cleaned in years, and there were cobwebs in the corners.
As to furniture, there was a table and chairs and a couple of four poster beds draped with curtains that looked tatty and old. There were a few worn rugs dotted about which looked rather threadbare and the colours on them had faded. The whole room looked trapped in time, as if the door had been locked for several decades and it had only just been opened.
“Where are we?” Arthur asked.
“The Rising Sun inn,” Gaius replied. “In Avalon.”
“Avalon?” Arthur wondered if he was dreaming. If he had in fact been killed in some sort of magical accident.
“Yes, the magical realm that exists alongside Albion. Uther didn't tell you any of this?” Gaius asked, looking concerned.
“No,” Arthur said. “This can't be real. Magic isn't real....” He paced a little trying to get his head around the fact he had somehow been magically transported to an old inn in some strange other realm.
“I understand this is a shock,” Gaius said.
“I think it's a little more than that,” Arthur told him.
Gaius smiled. “Perhaps you'd like something to eat?” he asked. Not waiting for Arthur's reply he muttered some words and waved his hand about. Suddenly, on the table was what looked like a plate of roast chicken dinner, and a glass of water. “I believe it's one of your favourites,” Gaius said.
Arthur wandered over to the table and blinked. It looked real. He reached out and touched the edge of the plate. It felt real, too. His stomach growled. It hadn't been that long since he'd eaten but the smell of the food was too tempting.
“It's not poisonous,” Gaius said.
Arthur sat down and picked up the fork that had also appeared out of nowhere. He then picked up the knife and tentatively sliced off a bit of chicken. Raising his fork he took a bite. It tasted real too, some of the best he'd ever tasted. He finished off that piece and then tried the potatoes, also real and also tasty.
Eventually after trying everything he started to eat more normally. Gaius sat opposite him and watched. It was a bit disconcerting.
“You’re very like your mother,” Gaius said. “She liked roast chicken too.”
Arthur swallowed his mouthful. “What was my mother?” he asked.
“A sorceress, one of the best. In time she could have been good enough to teach at Camelot but she met your father and....” Gaius paused. “Uther was never that fond of magic even before.... He preferred Ygraine seek a career outside of Avalon.”
“She was a teacher,” Arthur said. Not that he had ever known her. He often wondered if he would have had an easier time at school if she'd lived, or if his father's pushiness to do well would have been echoed by his mother.
Gaius smiled. “She would have taught you about your magic.”
“I don’t have any magic,” Arthur replied, stabbing his food.
“Then how do you explain what happened with the glass?”
Arthur couldn't really explain it. Or much of what he'd experienced. The idea that his mother had been some sort of witch seemed unreal. “I can't.”
Gaius smiled.
Arthur ate a little more before asking a question that had been on his mind since he realised Gaius had known his mother. “If my mother had all this magic,” he said. “How did she die when she gave birth to me?”
Gaius's expression grew darker. “I don't think now is the time to be discussing that, Arthur.”
His tone told Arthur that the question wouldn’t be answered, no matter how much he asked.
“I have a right to know,” Arthur said.
“You do, and you'll be told, but not yet. There's a lot for you to take in.”
Despite the fact that he wanted to argue, Arthur knew that Gaius was right. He had been plunged into a world he knew nothing about. Still, there was a sense of familiarity, of belonging, even though he was in a strange room with a man he knew nothing about.
“What do you do?” Arthur asked, realising it was probably a good idea to know more about Gaius.
“I'm a Professor at Camelot University; the letter would have told you that,” Gaius said.
“What are you a professor of?”
This seemed to engage Gaius's interest. “My studies are generally related to the field of magical science, with particular interest in the healing arts.”
Arthur frowned. “You're a doctor?”
“Of sorts, yes. I teach healing magic among other things. You will be taking courses with me as well as your other tutors.”
Arthur was about to ask more about what courses he would be having, assuming he was actually going to a magical university (and he couldn't be sure about that; he still wondered if he wasn't still asleep), when there was a knock at the door.
“I'll see who it is,” Gaius said, getting up.
Taking one last bite Arthur realised he felt full and his appetite had diminished. The food on his plate no longer held any interest. Not when he was finally beginning to get answers to questions he hadn’t had until recently.
“Ah, Geoffrey, come in,” Gaius said, as he opened the door..
An older man entered the room. He looked around Gaius's age with bushy eyebrows and equally bushy beard that seemed designed to offset his bald head. He was carrying a large armful of books and was wearing deep red robes.
“Arthur, this is Geoffrey of Monmouth,” Gaius said, ushering the man in. “He's Camelot's head librarian.”
Putting his fork down, Arthur stood up and politely offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I'm Arthur Pendragon,” he said, formally.
Geoffrey was unable to shake Arthur's hand; he was having a hard enough time holding onto his books. “Pleased to meet you, Arthur,” he said. “You do look like your mother.”
Someone else who knew her, Arthur presumed. “So I've heard.”
“Geoffrey's brought the textbooks you'll be needing,” Gaius replied, waving a hand and clearing the table of the plate, food and cutlery. It was fortunate Arthur had finished eating.
“Thank you,” Arthur said.
Geoffrey set the tomes down with a heavy thud. “Yes, your mother left these in my care some years ago in the hope one day you'd be able to use them.”
Arthur reached out and touched one of the leather covers. “These were my mother's?”
“Yes, they were. In fact,” Geoffrey held up a finger and then began to go through the pile. He pulled out a small book, one with a black leather cover. “This was written by her,” he said, passing the book to Arthur.
Arthur took it carefully, his fingers warm against the leather. The title was embossed on the front with gold lettering: 'A Discourse on Magical Legends and their Modern Interpretation by Ygraine DuBois'. “My mother wrote this?”
“She did,” Geoffrey said. “It was her first and only work. Avalon lost a great scholar when she married your father. She could have been as well known as William of Cambria given time.”
“Who is William of Cambria?”
Geoffrey went to the piles of books again and pulled out a particularly thick one. “This is his best known work, 'The Bestiary'; it's required reading for all students.”
Arthur eyed the book. It looked long and boring. “What else do students have to read?”
All of the books Geoffrey had brought it seemed. The librarian went through them one by one extolling the virtues of each. There was 'Basic Elemental Magic and Practical Application' by a Nimueh Lake, 'A Guide to the Herbs of Avalon and Their Medicinal Uses' authored by Gaius, 'On Destiny: Magical Philosophy' by one Professor Kilgarrah, and various others aimed at first year students just starting to learn magic.
“And I have to read all of these?” Arthur asked in disbelief.
“And learn it,” Gaius said, sternly.
Geoffrey looked disappointed. “There's a great deal of learning in those books,” he said.
Arthur would have made some remark, but then Gaius spoke, shooting Arthur a look to tell him to keep quiet.
“Well, it's been a long day for Arthur,” Gaius said. “He should get some rest.”
“Of course,” Geoffrey replied. “Don't want him to miss the train to Camelot tomorrow.”
Arthur frowned. “Train?”
“I'll explain more about your travel arrangements in the morning,” Gaius said, and he went to see Geoffrey out.
Arthur was left alone to get ready for bed. He'd forgotten to actually pack any pyjamas but magically some appeared on the bed as he went through his rucksack. It was another odd thing that Arthur felt a little disturbed by.
That night Arthur lay in the strange bed reading his mother's book. As he read, he tried to imagine her voice, imagine her reading the book to him. Some of the content was made up of fairy stories and Arthur wondered if Ygraine would have read such tales to him as a child, or if even fairy stories would have been too much magic for his father.
As he fell asleep, he could almost hear her whispering in his ear about princes and wizards and magical kingdoms.
******************************************************************************
The next morning, it took a while for Arthur to realise where he was. Oddly, he wasn't panicking or worried, despite being in unfamiliar surroundings. The bed was comfortable, and though he felt a pang of guilt at what his father would be doing or thinking, it soon passed. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, only to see Gaius standing at the foot of his bed.
“Ah, so you are awake. You better get dressed. Breakfast is ready and you've got a very busy day ahead of you,” Gaius said. “I'll leave you to get ready.” Arthur heard the door creak as Gaius left the room.
There was no sign of a shower or a bathroom but there was a chamber pot and a bowl with a jug of warm water and some soap. It wasn't what Arthur was used to but he managed to get himself clean and dressed by the time Gaius came back.
They sat down to breakfast which consisted of eggs, bacon, and toast. Gaius had apparently already eaten as he just sat and watched as Arthur tucked in. It was slightly unnerving and Arthur found he wasn’t hungry. Although Gaius's gaze guilted him into eating most of what had been put in front of him.
“We'll have to leave soon to catch the train,” Gaius said.
“What train?” Arthur asked around a mouthful of bacon.
“The train to Camelot. Everything you need is all packed up,” Gaius said, waving a hand over to where there was an old fashioned trunk. “All of your books and some clothes.”
“How did you get my clothes?” Arthur asked.
“Your sister was kind enough to help with that. You'll see Morgana when you get to Camelot.”
That reassured Arthur, as Morgana at least gave him the hope of some answers. He could just about buy that magic existed but beyond that he wasn't sure.
“Are you all right, Arthur?” Gaius asked.
“I feel fine,” Arthur replied. He hadn't suffered a headache since he'd arrived with Gaius.
“You'll feel a lot better here,” Gaius said. “Your magic will be calmer.”
Perhaps that explained the absence of headaches. Arthur still didn't feel as if he had magic though. He was sure he would be able to feel something. At the moment all he felt was slightly sick from eating too fast.
Gaius was in a hurry though. Arthur had barely had time to drink his tea before Gaius was badgering him to get ready to go. Arthur put his jacket on, put his rucksack over his shoulder and dragged the trunk to the door.
“I'm ready,” he said.
Gaius seemed to appraise him for a moment. “Good,” he said. “Follow me and keep up. We've got to make sure you catch the train.”
When the door opened Arthur saw a dark corridor, with the same panels of dark wood that were in the room he'd stayed in. The floorboards creaked as he walked over them, and he was sure there were cobwebs dotted around. The whole place smelt old and musty.
Gaius led the way down a dark and narrow staircase at the end of the corridor. It was a struggle for Arthur to get the trunk down the stairs without it landing on his foot. For an old man, Gaius moved surprisingly quickly.
When they reached the bottom, Arthur noticed the floor had changed to stone flags rather than floorboards. The floor was no cleaner though. It seemed they were in a bar; there were tables dotted about and quite a few people sat and talking - some quite loudly.
Suddenly, the noise stopped and all eyes turned toward Arthur. The bar was silent as Gaius led him through the area, weaving between the tables. Arthur could feel the gazes of every person in the bar on him, and he didn’t know why. Perhaps they could see he was an interloper, an imposter who didn’t have magic.
In one corner of the bar was a small door. Gaius opened it and ushered Arthur in. It was a bit of a squeeze to get himself, his rucksack and his trunk through. They had to go down an even smaller rickety staircase and there was no light. That was until Gaius muttered something and the space was suddenly illuminated by bright blue light hovering above them.
The room seemed to be a cellar of some sort, which made sense if they were indeed in an inn. Arthur could make out barrels stored against the wall. Gaius led the way across the stone flags to another door, which was smaller again.
“I have the key somewhere,” he said, searching through his robes.
“Where are we?” Arthur said.
“At a portal,” Gaius replied. “I suppose you could call it that. Ah, found the key.” He held up an old rusted piece of metal that at one point probably had been a key.
He put it in the lock and turned it. There was an odd rumbling sound, as if it wasn't one lock being unlocked but hundreds. Arthur watched and the door seemed to tremble. When the sound stopped Gaius pulled something else out of his robes.
“Here is your ticket,” he said, handing over an envelope. “Now, the train leaves in fifteen minutes so don't be late.”
Arthur still had no idea where he was going. “How am I supposed to catch a train from here?” he asked.
Gaius said nothing, but pushed open the door to reveal a bustling train station. Arthur thought it looked familiar, but he didn’t have time to say anything as Gaius bundled him and his luggage out. When Arthur turned back to say something, the door had vanished and he was left standing in the middle of a busy railway station with no idea where he was going.
Remembering the envelope, Arthur opened it and took out a golden ticket with black lettering on it. It wasn’t like any train ticket he'd ever seen before. He read the ticket slowly.
Camelot University Express
Student: Arthur Pendragon
Departing 11.30AM Platform 14.5
What sort of a platform was that, he wondered? Glancing up he realised why the station was so familiar. He was in London Euston station, of all places. As far as he knew, Euston didn't have a platform 14.5.
Since he couldn't just stand around, he began to head in the general direction of platform 14 in the hope he could find a member of staff to help him. He studied his ticket in more detail as he walked, hauling his trunk behind him. He didn't notice the young man in front of him until he bumped into him.
“Watch where you’re going,” he said, out of frustration and habit.
The boy, who was dark haired and seemed about Arthur's age, turned around. “I wasn't the one not looking where he was going, idiot.”
“Idiot? At least I have some manners.”
“Oh yes, telling people to watch where they're going is very polite.”
“I have a lot of things on my mind. Important things an idiot like you couldn’t possibly understand.”
“Oh really? Well at least I understand how to be nice to people I've bumped into because I've not been looking where I was going.”
Arthur was about to say something further, when a woman's voice called in their direction. “Merlin! Come on, you don’t want to miss the train.”
Giving Arthur a defiant glare, the boy, Merlin, left and headed off toward a woman who was probably his mother.
Arthur sighed and glanced at the clock. The little run in he'd just had had cost him five minutes he couldn't afford to lose. He looked around for a staff member to ask, but, typically, he couldn't see one. He did hear a couple of girls his age giggling.
“I can't wait until we get to Camelot,” one was saying. “Apparently they're opening the chess team this year to first years. They said something about reducing the magic in the pieces to make them safer.”
Arthur barely understood what the girl was saying but he latched onto the word 'Camelot'. He saw the girls walking away from him and began to follow them; it seemed as if they knew where they were going. They were heading to platform fourteen. As Arthur watched they walked along the platform but then suddenly vanished.
Arthur stared. The girls had seemed to disappear into thin air. He couldn't see them anywhere; it didn't make any sense. How was he supposed to get on a non-existent platform? He really doubted he could actually say to a member staff that he'd seen two girls vanish and he needed to do the same.
Luckily, he then saw a woman seemingly reappear out of nowhere. He recognised her as the mother of Merlin, the boy he'd bumped into earlier. She smiled when she saw him, and came over. Arthur was holding his ticket in plain view, and wondered if that was what the woman had noticed.
“You don't know how to get onto the platform?” she asked.
Arthur nodded. “I'm just supposed to disappear?” he asked.
The woman laughed. “No, you need to walk forward, past the rune on the platform and just push through the barrier.”
“What's a rune and what barrier?”
“Come with me” she said, taking his arm. “I'm guessing you were brought up mundane? No magic?”
“No magic at all,” Arthur said. “I don't think I have magic.”
“You have a ticket,” she said. “You have magic.”
Arthur decided he didn't really want to argue with a woman who was obviously trying to be helpful. “Thank you.”
“Come with me,” she said, leading Arthur further along the platform. She stopped before a strange mark on the platform, something that Arthur hadn't noticed before. “This is the rune,” she said. “Walk forward a little.”
Feeling a little foolish Arthur did as he was told. He felt something push back against him, as if the air was suddenly thick with resistance.
“Close your eyes and push past it,” the woman said.
Before Arthur could protest, he felt a shove at his back and then he felt as if he was pushing through some sort of barrier. There was a whooshing noise in his ears, before the sounds around him changed. He could hear laughter and movement all around. He opened his eyes and found himself standing on an old fashioned, Victorian-style platform. He glanced up and saw the sign: 'Platform 14.5'.
Blinking, Arthur looked around. He wasn't sure how he had ended up here. He wondered if perhaps the woman he had talked to had magic. She might have been the one to transport him here, he thought, just like Gaius had. There was a hissing noise and Arthur noticed the large red steam engine in front of him. He read the name on it - Camelot Express. This mythical university had its own train.
“Come along now, hurry up,” a man, in what looked like knight's clothing, was saying.
Arthur just stared.
“Come on,” the man said. “The train will be leaving soon. Get on board.”
Arthur and his luggage were swept up in a mass of students that had been milling around. Now they were rushing forward toward the train. Arthur felt himself being pushed and jostled by the people around him. It was hard to keep hold of his trunk, and he felt his rucksack being squashed from all sides.
“Hey! Watch it!” he said but his protests were drowned out by the melee.
Eventually he made it onto the train. The coaches were old fashioned and had compartments. Everyone else seemed eager and were busily cramming themselves into ones with their friends. Arthur had no friends, he knew no one in this strange world. He was more than a little envious of the people around him talking easily to one another and laughing with excitement.
He wandered through the coach, squeezing himself and his luggage down the narrow aisle, looking for somewhere to sit, just a quiet corner where no one would notice he was an imposter. Maybe if the train stopped somewhere, he could get off and find a way home, although for all Arthur knew he was in a different country or a parallel universe.
Finally, he found a carriage that had only one occupant. Unfortunately, the occupant was the boy he'd bumped into at the station. Merlin, Arthur recalled. He was the last person Arthur wanted to be stuck near on a long train journey, but he had no choice. Everywhere else was taken.
The compartment was cramped and already pretty full of luggage. There was an owl in a cage on the seat next to Merlin that seemed to be asleep. Merlin himself appeared to be reading a thick old book, rather like the ones Geoffrey had shown him. Several books covered the rest of Merlin's seat, but the one opposite was clear and free.
Arthur stepped inside. “Excuse me,” he said in his politest voice. “Is anyone sitting here?” he asked, indicating the seat opposite Merlin.
Merlin, who had been reading a book, looked up. “You're on the train?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, trying to keep his tone polite. “I'm sorry for bumping into you at the train station.”
Merlin smiled. “It's okay,” he said. “I had a lot on my mind.” He closed his book and left it on his lap. “Come in and sit down. We'll be setting off any minute now.”
As if Merlin had uttered prophetic words the train gave a lurch and began to move. Arthur was practically thrown into the compartment, tripping over luggage, and as he tried to regain his balance, he fell forward and onto Merlin.
“You've bumped into me again,” Merlin said, but there was no malice in his voice.
“I'm sorry,” Arthur said, uncomfortably aware of his closeness to Merlin. In the last few months Arthur had figured out he might very possibly be bisexual if not gay and the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in front of a stranger.
He quickly got off Merlin, and smiled nervously. Another lurch of the train sent him hurtling into his seat; Merlin seemed very amused.
“It isn't funny, Merlin,” he said as he got up to haul his trunk in. He took his rucksack off and placed it on the seat.
“It is,” Merlin said. “And I don't even know your name.”
“Arthur,” he said, offering a hand. “Arthur Pendragon.”
Merlin looked shocked, too shocked to take Arthur's proffered handshake. “The Arthur Pendragon?” he asked.
“I'm the only Arthur Pendragon I know,” Arthur said, sitting down on the slightly lumpy seat.
Merlin suddenly seemed to get very excited. “I can't believe it! The Arthur Pendragon. Son of Ygraine. We've all heard stories, but I didn't think you'd actually be here. I mean of course you can be here, you're the right age and everyone gets their letter but we all thought you’d been held captive by your mundane father or something. I mean the rumours --”
“Merlin!” Arthur said. “Can you please tell me what are you talking about?”
“You're Arthur Pendragon.”
Arthur was beginning to wonder if everyone he met in this world was going to be oddly eccentric. “I think we established that.”
“The child who lived,” Merlin said, flailing his arms about a little.
“Well I'm not dead.” Arthur was confused.
“Of course not but...” Merlin paused. “You don't know?
“Don't know what?”
“About Him.”
“Who?”
Merlin bit his lip. “I can't say his name; it's bad luck.”
“Spell it then.”
Leaning forward Merlin whispered. “M R O D D E R.”
“Mordder?
Still whispering, Merlin spoke again. “No M R and then O D D E R.”
“Mr Odder? What kind of a name's that?” Arthur asked, frowning.
“Shhh!” Merlin whispered loudly. “He might hear you.”
“Is he on the train?” Arthur asked, looking around. The compartment was empty, apart from the two of them and Merlin's owl.
Merlin looked outside the window. “They say he never really died, that he's out there somewhere waiting to return.”
“Merlin, who is he, why is he not really dead, and what are you talking about?”
Merlin turned back to face Arthur. “I keep forgetting you were brought up mundane.”
It was a word Arthur recognised. “What does that mean? People keep talking about it.”
“It means without magic. Mundanes are people without magic.”
“Well that's me then.”
Merlin shook his head. “No, you have magic. If you didn't, you wouldn’t be here, and there's no way you could not have magic, what with your mother being who she was.”
His mother. Arthur's heart beat harder. He knew so little about her, but it seemed here she was well known by everyone he talked to. Perhaps Merlin could tell him more about her. “What about my mother? What do you know about her?”
“She was a great sorcerer. My mum always said Ygraine DuBois could have become a teacher at Camelot if she'd wanted to, or become one of the great magical scholars.”
“My mother was a witch.” Arthur tested the phrase.
“Well, we use the term sorcerer more now. A sort of politically correct thing,” Merlin said, waving a hand.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, so your mother being a talented sorcerer must mean you'll be.”
“I don't have magic.”
“Of course you do. Anyone can tell that.” Merlin smiled.
Arthur suspected Merlin was humouring him, so he changed the subject back to his mother. “What about my mother? And this Mr... Him.”
“I shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”
“Merlin, a few days ago I was at home wondering where to take my gap year. Now I'm on a train in some weird magical universe and people are talking about things I'm supposed to know about but don't,” Arthur didn't mind that he sounded a little desperate. “Please.”
Just then the owl that had been asleep in his cage squawked. Merlin looked at him.
“Looks like Archimedes thinks I should tell you, too,” he said.
“You called your owl Archimedes?”
“It's an old family name.”
There was an uncomfortable pause. “So are you going to take your owl's advice?” Arthur asked.
Merlin bit his lip before nodding. “Just don't tell anyone I told you,” he said.
“I promise.”
Merlin was still leaning forward, but not as much as before. He didn’t whisper, but kept his voice low. “Okay, the first thing you need to know is there are good sorcerers and bad sorcerers. Magic isn't good or evil it's how you use it and some people decide to use it for well, bad things.”
Merlin shuddered a little and clearly didn't want to elaborate on what the bad things actually were.
“Go on,” Arthur encouraged.
“Him was one of those. He had a lot of magic, more than a lot of other sorcerers, and thought magic gave him the power to rule others. He was an evil sorcerer who killed mundanes and sorcerers.” Merlin gave Arthur a look.
The pieces fell into place. “He killed my mother?”
“Yes. But you survived.”
“I survived?” Arthur could hear his heart beating in his ears. “You mean she was pregnant when he...”
Merlin nodded. “Your mother gave her life to protect you. She took the entire killing curse on herself. She traded her future for yours.”
“She died when I was born.”
“But you lived,” Merlin said, a little louder. “No one else who ever came up against him did.”
The idea was almost too fantastical for Arthur to comprehend. “What happened to him?”
“No one knows but after he killed your mother and tried to kill you, he disappeared. He’s not been seen for eighteen years. They think he's dead. Or they like to think he is.”
“So you're telling me, my mother was killed by an evil sorcerer?”
Merlin looked guilty. “I shouldn't have told you. I'm sorry, Arthur.”
“No. My father...My father never talks about her. I thought it was just too painful. The idea it's because she had magic. It's too hard to believe.”
Merlin offered him a sympathetic smile. “I know.” He pursed his lips. “I mean I don't know how hard it is to find out your mother had magic, but I found it hard to understand why not everyone has magic. It's a different world.”
“I belong there. I don't belong on a train heading to a magical university.”
“But you're here.”
“Very good at stating the obvious, Merlin.”
Merlin leaned back more. “Thank you,” he grinned.
Not wanting to dwell too much on this new knowledge Arthur changed the subject. “What about you? You have magic? Do your parents?”
“Yeah. My mum has low level magic, but my dad's a Dragon Lord. He breeds wyverns. We live on a dragon reserve. Just outside Ealdor.”
“What's a wyvern?”
“Erm...it's a type of dragon. I have a picture; hang on.”
As Arthur watched, Merlin made a strange sort of movement in the air with his hand and suddenly what looked like a photograph floated in front of the window.
“How did you do that?”
“Magic. Don't you have pictures?”
Arthur looked at the image. It appeared to be moving. He recognised the woman who had shown how to get on the platform: Merlin’s mother. Next to her was a man who looked a little like Merlin with a beard and long hair. They were standing between two grey creatures that did look a little like dragons. “Not ones like that.”
“That's my Dad with Cadwr and Angharat,” Merlin said, pointing to the man and then the creatures.
“He breeds them?”
“A lot of magical creatures are endangered. Dragons are really rare now. Dragon Lords are trying to save them.”
“What's a Dragon Lord?”
Merlin's face lit up with pride. “Oh, Dragon Lords can talk to the dragons, tame them. I can't. Not yet, but one day I will.”
“So you're a Dragon Lord?”
Merlin nodded, waving his hand to make the picture vanish. “Well, the son of one. The gift is passed from father to son.”
Arthur was full of more questions now he had finally found someone to answer them but before he could ask anything more, Merlin had picked up a small suitcase and was eyeing Arthur.
“What?”
“Are you hungry? My mum packed me more food than I can eat, and Archimedes doesn't really like cake.”
Realising he hadn't had anything to eat since that morning (it had to be well past lunchtime by now) and he was hungry, Arthur gratefully accepted. “Thank you, Merlin.”
Merlin picked out a large slice of cake from the suitcase and handed it to Arthur.
“This is good,”Arthur said as he munched on the soft sponge.
Merlin spoke with his mouth full as he tucked into his own slice. “Mum's not a bad cook. Does it all without magic too. She says too much magic is cheating.”
“How often do you cheat?”
“Not that often,” Merlin mumbled.
Arthur laughed, as he suspected from Merlin's slight blush he wasn't being entirely honest.
“Your mother was the one who helped me find the platform,” Arthur said. “Would you thank her for me?”
“I'll tell her in my first letter home.”
“Tell her I enjoy her cake too,” Arthur said. “How do you send letters?”
Merlin smiled. “Well there's transparting, owl or smoke.”
Arthur continued to eat his cake. “Tell me more,” he said.
They continued to talk as they ate. Once Arthur had started asking Merlin questions he couldn’t get Merlin to shut up. It seemed Merlin, having grown up with magic, didn’t really have much chance to talk about it with anyone, and his enthusiasm was infectious.
PART TWO