Clarine
Chapter 19: Clarine
"A basilisk?" Merlin hadn't heard the word before, and it sounded as foreign on his tongue. Kilgrrah blinked his huge eyes at him, fixed on the scale.
"It is a creature of great evil, Emrys." Merlin sighed. Whenever Kilgrrah used his Druid name, it was always a bad sign. For him it was synonymous with trouble, it meant that he was definitely going to end up maimed, or unconscious at some point soon.
"An abomination. It shouldn't exist but there always those who experiment with things beyond their power and control. Its creator is most definitely under patronage of the Dark Sorceress and that makes it all the more malevolent.The basalisk is something that cannot be controlled. It is an infant in the creation of beasts, still new and few know of its existence."
"If it's so rare, what's one doing in Camelot? What does it even look like? I need to know what it looks like to fight it." Kilgrrah watched Merlin, as if annoyed at the interruption before continuing.
"The basilisk is a serpent, and dare I say, it may be the King of all Serpents. Gargantuan in size, it's power is fearsome. Few have seen one and lived to tell the tale. Even fewer know of a way to kill the beast. Even I am ignorant of its peculiarities. One thing I do know, young warlock, that its gaze is death. Locking eyes with the creature will result in the immediate death of the onlooker."
Merlin flopped back on to the grass, scrubbing both hands over his face. His hair created a wave of black around him, and he found himself feeling tired. He opened his eyes and saw the deep blue-black sky that blanketed his world. It was dusted with stars that appeared as fine points, dizzying to the more detailed observer. It was parallel to his views on magic.
It was beautiful and useful, but the closer you got, the closer you looked, the more complicated it got. If you were slightly careless, the very same thing could do you irreparable damage. It brought him back to his dilemma with the kids.
As if he'd read his mind, Kilgrrah unfurled and gave a mighty flap of his wings, shaking their surroundings with a great gale of wind. All around, trees shook and branches fell to the ground, great big ones, and small tiny ones.
"What you need, Merlin, is something akin to a scepter." He folded his wings neatly, tucked them into his flanks and settled down again on his haunches, crossing his forelegs and resting his head on them. "But something smaller. One of things that are best for something like the guidance of the ancient power is wood."
Merlin listened silently to the great beast next to him. He had never needed a scepter, but that was because he had a solid grip on the flow of his power from the beginning. Any issues he had had, stemmed from the simple problem of inexperience. Unfortunately, Godric, Salazar, Helga and Rowena struggled from both problems. Not only were they unexperienced, but their magic lacked the centralized flow and instead seemed to overflow from within them. Merlin may have been magic incarnate but they were such vast vessels of magic that they had trouble just keeping in line.
"Look around you, our very surroundings are our saviors. In these woods, you will find everything you need to help your wizardlings. They are young yet, but their impact on Magic, Merlin, will be crucial in the times to come. It is your job to equip them with the tools they need to do this." Merlin got up and began collecting the medium sized sticks, most of them roughly a fingers circumference wide. He would have to whittle them slightly for use, but otherwise he wouldn't have to do much.
"This is Ash." He murmured as he went back to sit next to the dragon, examining the collection of branches he'd gathered. Kilgrrah tilted his head slightly from his side. He rolled the branch in his palm, studying it. It was the length of a small dagger, from his fingertips to just past his wrist. Wider at the bottom and tapered into a point at its tip. In fact, most of them were like this, Merlin must have unknowingly picked up sticks of similar shapes.
"Mm. An very durable choice. In the old world, in times of old magic, Ash was said to be a symbol for sacrifice, for compassion and enlightenment." Merlin set the branches down and laid them out systematically. He set the Ash aside, having chosen it for Helga. She fit the description aptly.
"Hmm, Oak, Walnut and Laurel."
"Laurel speaks well for adolescent Salazar. Ambition and victory."
"What about Walnut and Oak?" Merlin asked, picking up the Laurel branch and placing it carefully next to the Ash."
"Walnut signifies an ancient tie with the old ways. Their magic and wisdom, their way of life. It befits Rowena well. However," Here Kilgrrah paused, raising his head. "Godric, he is a dangerous one, Merlin. Oak is emblem for courage and power and the ability to withstand the test of time and would suit him well. But the boy also displays great affinity for the Holly tree. The rage in him is great and he needs to protect himself and as well others against it. It burns within him, like a simmering fire, low and constant. When it flares, and it will Merlin, it could mean an end to all he holds dear. Even his beloved siblings." He nudged the boughs at Merlin's feet and blew a short breath over them. He hadn't said anything but Merlin was sure that they were enchanted now. Somehow amplified to align themselves with more ease with their prospective owners.
With this last statement, Kilgrah stood, unfolding and shaking his wings out. Merlin scrambled to his feet, nearly stumbling over his own feet.
"Wait! You haven't told me how to defeat this – this basilisk thing!"
The dragon's gravelly voice huffed at him, equally frustrated and amused.
"I have said nothing, because I myself do not know how." Merlin gaped at him.
"If you don't know how to deal with it, how could I possibly go against it?!" The great dragon lifted himself in the air, the trees almost singing in response to his great power. The wind rushing through the boughs created the most ethereal music, in the dead of night, under the cover of a midnight blue silk sky over them, dotted with luminescent diamonds that watched over the creatures that lived below.
" I have told you all you need to know Merlin. In this world, somethings are old, ancient even. But others, they are new, a creation of the evils and greed in your generation, of your era. Thus it falls to your people to find the solution for the misfortunes you've dealt on yourselves."
With that, Kilgrrah flew higher into the sky and across the horizon, quickly becoming nothing more than a quickly disappearing speck in the welkin above.
Disgruntled, Merlin watched him leave, sitting heavily back down on the ground.
"That overgrown lizard always leaves before anything really ever happens. You'd think a giant fire breathing beast like that would actually be of some help, but no he acts like some sage and conveniently flies off."
He looked at the branches he'd chosen, picking them up and bundling them together, starting his way back to the castle, limping half the way to due to the fact that leg seemed to have gone numb from sitting for so long. It was still the dead of night, sunlight was at least a few hours away. Merlin thought of Kilgrrah's words as he walked.
He has great rage in him. Well, he knew that. Anyone with eyes could see that. He himself had been wondering about it, but it became evident that nothing he would do could eradicate it. Godric would have to come to peace with what had happened himself. It was horrific, no one would deny him that, but in the same breath, he would have to learn that holding himself prisoner to the past was the thing that doomed people, left them unable to change and ultimately enabled the cycle of injustice to continue. Change could not take root unless someone would be willing to bury the past and work towards a new future.
He crept back into the castle, skillfully skirting past the guards, realizing that 7 years away hadn’t changed the ways they did their rounds. That would have to change, Merlin made a mental note to bring it to Arthur's attention. Anyone who observed them for a day could have easy access once they learned the schedule of the Knights on night duty.
When he slipped back into his room, the four were sleeping, just as he'd left them. Well, barring the fact that Salazar slept like an ape, clutching Godric's back, who even in his sleep, attempted to shake him off. Helga and Rowena had an irritating tendency to shake their covers off in their sleep. It meant that Merlin was forever tucking them in.
He sat back down on his bed, burrowing under the sheets while reaching for the bag that he'd brought with them to Camelot. He realized with a start as he opened the door that he'd been away without notice from the village. Merlin reluctantly crawled back out of bed, grabbing an errant piece of parchment, dipping a prepared quill in the ink well that sat on the desk adjacent to his bed, penning a quick sign for the villagers who appeared to home for treatment.
Merlin quickly apparated, pinning the sign to his door, and gathering the weekly treatments that he usually delivered to the village people, dropping them discreetly on the doorsteps to each home. Once he'd accomplished that task, he quickly disappeared back into the forest and apparated back to the castle, in his room. He fell exhausted on to his bed, tired out by using the Apparation spell in such quick succession. Once he'd got his breath back, he reached into his bag and pulled his collection of books from Grindle and Gaius and opened a newly made book ( a gift from Godric, an ornate leather bound creation that sealed shut on its own) with a magicked quill.
He opened it, reveling in the fresh crispness of a brand new book. For a few moments, he paused, thinking of what to write. He hadn't up until this point decided what he would fill the book with, but now he had a clue. It would be his encounters with magic. The concepts he developed, the ones he encountered and the beasts that he would face. Maybe in the future, his work might aid the dilemma's of a learning sorcerer.
Merlin pressed the page down, and began to write.
There exists, within humans, an inexplicable desire to explore that which is beyond our intellectual grasp. For that reason, many of the things that we encounter in our lifetimes are often monsters of our own creation. One such example, is the Basilisk...
. . . . . . . . . . . .
"Sire, we found another one." Arthur clutched his disarrayed hair in astonishment, looking up from his position on the dais in the great hall. He'd been there since first light, the idea of a monster wandering his Kingdom had been too pressing to allow him a comfortable lie in. Sometime later, a guard had approached him with the news that two servant men had been found dead in the stables of apparently no cause.
Elyan hesitated however, as he relayed the most recent discovery to him, a fact that Arthur didn't miss. He narrowed his eyes at him.
"What? What's different about this one?" Elyan opened his mouth several times, as if unable to find the words to describe it. In the end, he shrugged and stepped aside as two lower rank Knights brought the latest casualty in on a wooden stretcher. The sight brought Arthur instantly to his feet.
"Is...is that normal? For this creature?" Eyes wide, he touched the body on the stretcher and found it rock hard like stone. This was the body of a woman, frozen in a crouched shape, hands cupped around an earthen water vessel, as if she had been kneeling by the river to get water, which is what Arthur suspected to be the case.
"We found her like this, Sire. By the lake on the east side of the Kingdom." Elyan nudged closer and murmured.
"By the Dark Forest. Close to where Madalen was found dead."
"But is she dead?" This was a crucial question here, because she looked nothing like the other corpses, whose post-death pallor had already set in.
"Honestly, I can't say. She has no pulse, but that's because she's rock solid. For all we know, this might not be the beast but the work of a sorcerer." Arthur was shaking head his before Elyan had finished his sentence. He knew that his brother in-law was insinuating that Elladora may have had something to do with this, but he was sure she didn't.
Magic aside, she was a smart woman. She the logical thinking skills of a well experienced councillor and quite simply. It wouldn't make sense for her to launch any kind of attack whilst living in the Castle. Not one like this at least. Killing villagers had no strategic gain. In any case, she was beginning to strike Arthur as a genuinely
At this point the other Knights, having been filled in by Leon about the mornings events, had gathered in the hall. Before he had time to address them however, Elladora walked in, throwing the Hall doors open as if she owned the place. As before, Gwenivere followed her in, which Arthur wondered at momentarily. Within the span of a day, they seemed to have grown inexplicably closer. He circled out from behind the table he stood behind and stepped down.
"Elladora -"
"I FIGURED IT OUT." The woman interrupted him before he could even begin. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Good morning to you too Mistress." She waved the greeting as if to say 'I haven't got time for that'.
"No, listen to me, I've found out what's killing people!" That got Arthur's attention instantly.
"How?" He nodded his head towards the Knights that weren't in his private circle, signaling them to withdraw so as to give him privacy in order to hear Elladora's explanation in its entirety.
"Never mind how, the point is that it's a basilisk."
The name meant absolutely nothing to him and his silence upon Elladora's knowledge alerted her to the fact.
"Oh for pity's sake. A basilisk," she waved her hand in the air and a series of gold lines followed it. They twisted, turned and glittered, until it resembled the shape of a snake. The airborne illustration swirled in the air, sailing in the faces of the Knights who looked on in open-mouthed awe. Arthur whacked Gwaine on the back of the head ("ouch!") to bring him back to reality.
"is a snake, but one borne of forbidden experimentation. Not," she glared at Arthur in defiance, "the work of sorcerer's necessarily, but of anyone who possessed the desire to play with forces beyond their control. It's a thing of enormous size, and capable of killing it's victims just by looking them in the eye. I found this in Bertram's rooms last night. I'm positive this is all the doing of a basilisk." She held up a scale, as large as the palm of his hand, dark black and strangely glittering.
"How do you explain this then?" Percival gestured behind him to the frozen woman that Elladora hadn't realized was there. Some of the excitement seemed to leech from the sorceress as she took in the girl's form. She looked around the hall and saw the other two bodies, covered in white sheets. She met Arthur's gaze in something close to displeasure. The gold serpent quickly disintegrated, falling like a thousand stars at their feet.
"Why wouldn't you tell me there were more victims?" The tone was accusatory and Arthur bristled in response.
"You're forgetting that I am King, and technically, I don't have the obligation to tell you anything. The fact that I do at all, is a privilege. You would do well to remember that Mistress." Elladora glowered at him, biting her lips, as if to restrain herself.
"And you are forgetting that at the current time, I am the only one who can rid you the monster. So I am going to pretend you weren't being the dollop – head that we all know you are, in an effort to work together for once. Then you can go back to being bigoted against warlocks for all I care, but I would appreciate it if you could try to suppress it just long enough to solve this."
Merlin knew this time he may have gone slightly too far here. But he was growing tired of the posturing. He wished in this moment that he could be Merlin. Maybe receiving a dressing down from the warlock he'd banished would set his head straight, he thought, as he felt something deep inside him flicker, like a lick of flame igniting and growing stronger. Arthur blinked in response, for a moment, he could have sworn, he'd seen Merlin in place of Elladora, his eyes sparking with fury. He blinked twice more and saw nothing more than Elladora. I must be going crazy.
"Very well."
That was all the King said. And after a moment of awkward silence, the group resumed the conversation.
"So a basilisk then?" Lancelot prompted, exchanging a side glance with Elyan. Elladora's eyes never left the King's as she responded.
"Yes." She broke the gaze as she turned to the woman that had been found near the river.
"Have you identified her?" The Knights shook their heads.
"We're in the process. We only just found her." Merlin knelt next to her, examining the rigidness of the flesh and yet the fresh pallor of the skin.
"I don't believe she's dead." Their eyes widened and they all rushed to her, examining her the way Elladora was but found they couldn't see what she was seeing.
"Why do you say that?" Leon asked, hazarding a grazing touch on her head, just to test.
"It's just a theory, but she's not displaying any of the usual signs of death. It’s more like being frozen." Merlin shook his head as he got up. "I can't be certain, but I would keep her somewhere safe until either myself or Gaius could find a way to cure her."
"Can you, though?" Gwaine questioned. Merlin locked eyes with him, and under Gwen's keen eye, she saw Merlin swallow thickly before answering.
"I hope so."
. . . . . . . .
"Merlin." Merlin whirled around, clapping a hand over Gwenivere's mouth as she ran up behind him with a basket on her arm.
"Gwenivere!" He hissed. Merlin looked surreptitiously, checking for witnesses before yanking her into his chambers. The others barely glanced up as they talked amongst themselves, tidying up their beds and preparing to head down to the tavern for the day. In fact, Merlin was going to join them. He wanted to talk to Lianora, see how she and Madalen's children were holding up.
"Sorry!" She held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I was just trying to catch up to you." Merlin eyed her suspiciously before sitting on the bed and patting the spot next to him. She sat down and took one of his hands in both of hers.
"I know you were trying to help today, Merlin, but you went too far." Merlin blinked. Whatever he'd expected her to say, it wasn't this.
"I was just trying -"
"I know." She said kindly, patting his arm. "But you have to remember, if you insult him so freely, he will lose respect with his subjects. I understand how you must feel, being discriminated against, you have every right to feel wronged, betrayed, he did betray you, but -"
Merlin colored in indignation. She was making him sound like a sulking child.
"I am not feeling wronged! I'm just trying to wallop some sense into him." Gwenivere shook her head at him.
"No, Merlin. You're also trying to get revenge for the way he made you feel all those years ago. We all want to be the bigger person, but maybe you should try and accept the fact that what Arthur did hurt you, Merlin. You felt hurt that he treated you like that. Maybe you have just as much of a grudge as Arthur does."
Well. This certainly changed things, Merlin thought as he dissolved into dry, heaving sobs, the feelings he'd been holding back finally surfacing in full force.
. . . . . . .
"Honestly, I'm fine Gwenivere." Merlin pushed the maternal hand away as she hovered over him. He hastily wiped at his eyes. He was sincerely embarrassed at the intense show of emotion that had made itself known unwillingly. Godric and Helga had immediately sat down next to him, rubbing his back while Rowena and Salazar had gone curiously silent, choosing to sit at his feet, unsure of what else to do, but stare at him.
He was mortified to say the least.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you! I just wanted – well, I mean I didn't -" Merlin just placed a finger over her lips, a chagrined look on his face.
"It's fine. It's all fine. Let's just pretend it never happened, alright?" She nodded, vigorously and Merlin removed his finger, getting up and shrugging his bag onto his shoulder. He sure as hell wasn't about to leave a magicked bag unattented in the castle. If some poor soul stumbled into it, Merlin would be hard pressed to find a way to get him out.
He motioned for the children to gather their bags, as they prepared to leave. He opened the door swiftly, only to find himself face to face with Gwaine and Percival. The latter's fist was directly on his nose, poised to knock.
"Ah, Mistress." Percival quickly put his hand away, giving a short bow. "I've been instructed to escort you to the Tavern." Merlin frowned, upon seeing this, Gwaine spoke, drawing Merlin's attention.
"He said 'I'm not going to be responsible for that clot-pole getting herself killed. So whether she likes it or not, Percival's going with her.' The end." Gwaine smiled wickedly, and Merlin suddenly found his throat tight and unable of vocalizing his displeasure. He managed a short nod, and muscled past the two, walking briskly down the hallway, hearing Percival's measured steps behind him as well as the pattering of the children. Halfway, he heard Gwaine directing Godric towards the Castle library, an outing that Merlin had sanctioned, with the apparent approval of the Queen.
He was annoyed with himself. All he' d done was allow himself to fully experience the feelings he'd refused to since being thrown out and now he was unnecessarily aware of the roguish Knight. Even worse, was the knowing giggle of the Queen. He doubted that Queen was unaware of Gwaine's feelings. Merlin hadn't needed to confide in her that he knew, he was sure it was obvious in his own mannerisms. He'd all of a sudden, standing at the door, thought, what if I suddenly turned back into myself? Into Merlin? What would he do? He was hit by sudden wave of temptation to do just that, as he turned down the corridor, leading to the front gates, feeling another jump in his center, like the flame was growing more intense.
Gwaine directed Godric down to the library, the young boy following behind the Queen. He glanced back towards Elladora. He fumbled his sword as for a split second he thought he saw a blue shirt and red kerchief round the hallway. He let out a breath, re-adjusting the sword and pressing a cool palm to his eyes.
Get a grip, lad.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Merlin took a deep breath as he pushed the door to the tavern open.
"Oi, how many times do I have to tell you blathering idiots that we don't open until after noon?" Lianora came forcefully stepping out of the swinging doors to the back rooms, wielding a large iron ladle. Merlin raised his arms, in mock fear.
"Oh save me!" She scowled and knocked him in the head with the bottom of the ladle.
"Mock me again, laddie and I'll be making the broth outta your sorry hide instead of the bull's !" The threat was slightly undermined by the grin that she directed him. Merlin grinned right back, shrugging out of his shawl and setting right to work, grabbing a broom and mopping. Salazar took after Rowley, helping him carry the new ale barrels to the drinks side and Rowena and Helga stuck themselves with Della and Earna helping them wash dishes and pitchers.
Percival stood awkwardly in the middle, unsure of what to do, until he saw Lianora up on top of a chair, straining to reach a sack of barley on top of a shelf behind the counter. When she started to tip backwards, he reflexively pushed his hand into the small of her back, stabilizing her, and reached up with the unoccupied hand to pull the sack down.
"Oh whoops. Sorry, nearly lost myself there. Thank you." She laid a palm on his bicep briefly smiling radiantly at him, before hefting the bag under her arm and ducking into the back again. Merlin noted with amusement, the pink tinge that colored his cheek as he stared at the door through which Lianora had vanished. He stabbed at Percival's feet with the broom, making the larger man jump and stumble.
"You may want to close your mouth, Sir Knight, you might catch a few flies like that."
. . . . . . .
Arthur strode down the corridor in the east wing of the castle, perusing a scroll of items that Gaius had handed him. Apparently, he would have to send an errand boy to the southern part of the Kingdom to retrieve a few rare herbs. He was so engrossed in the list that he nearly missed seeing Godric up on a step ladder in the royal library.
"Hello, Godric, was it?"
Godric look down and Arthur could have sworn he'd seen the younger boy's lip curl, but he blinked and it was gone.
"Afternoon, Your Highness."
"I didn't take you much for the scholarly type. Figured you were a bit more like me with that body. Bit more rough and tumble." Arthur leaned on the bookshelf and watched as Godric thumbed through the books on the second to highest rung.
"Well, it appears I happen to be a bit of both, Sire." This was said with a rather large of cynicism, couldn't be as easily ignored.
"You don't like me very much, do you Godric?" Arthur stated, wielding a discerning eye over the young warlock.
"Well, you are the reason that my siblings and I have no parents to speak of."
Arthur worked for a few moments, to figure out how to respond to that.
"What are you looking for?" Arthur would have to come back to that point later. For the moment, the only thing he could think of was that he couldn't exactly tell the boy he was wrong. After all, he wasn't wrong, he was more than right.
"A history of Camelot. Preferrably a family tree or something else of that nature." Arthur was surprised. Why he would he want that?
"A history on Camelot or of its rulers?" He queried curiously. Every one of Elladora's children were an enigma. Godric was no different.
"They say you should know your enemies, don't they?" The boy said pointedly, continuing his rifling through the books.
"Godric. My father did what he thought was necessary, he was tricked into a spell that took my mother's life." He didn't know why he was trying to argue common sense with an adolescent boy, but for whatever reason, he didn't want the boy to misunderstand the reason.
"And that sanctions the mass murder of a people?" Godric's eyes flashed and he finally turned to give his full attention to the King at his side. "The act of one sorceress, who may not have known that the spell would take Lady Ygraine's life, dooms us all?" The King was taken aback at the sudden vehemence in his voice. It sounded like Godric had been holding in this argument for a long time.
"Your people slaughtered us, like cattle, for the actions of one. Should I have retaliated for the murder of my aunt by taking the lives of every villager that had a hand in her death? And I should remind you that everyone in my village took part. The rules King Uther put in place made it so that all one would have to do was levy the charge of witchcraft at someone. Even if the charge didn't stick, the taint of the accusation would follow them everywhere. People who were singled out simply for being different died, Your Highness. You tell me, what kind of retribution did your father seek? Had it been a nameless servant that died, in exchange for your life, would he have cared? Would the ban on magic exist?"
Godric spat the last sentence out, grabbing a book off the shelf and hopped off. He wavered slightly as he passed Arthur.
"I don't mean to place the blame at your feet, Sire, but I wish you would think before condemning us all. At least long enough to wonder whether we truly deserve to die as your Father decreed."
Then he was gone, and Arthur was left staring gobsmacked at the place the boy had occupied. He sat down, burdened, on the stool, cradling his head in his hands. He briefly let his heart wish, I wish Merlin was here, before he reigned himself in.
"Arthur?" Gwenivere stood in the doorway, carrying a basket on her arm. Arthur got up and wordlessly enveloped her in a hug, his chin resting on her head. She sank into his embrace, an unusual display of affection for midday.
"What are you doing? Where's Godric? I wanted to give him some food to take to the Tavern." Arthur sighed, turning his head to place his cheek where his chin had been.
"That family seems to excel in confounding me."
"Hm?"
"Nothing. It's nothing."
. . . . . . . . .
In the back recesses of the castle, a dagger scraped against the damp stone wall, scoring a line tinted with red. Hands stained red held the hilt, a girl with matted, tangled hair, shredded dress sang brokenly, gleefully, deranged. Her head sang with the words, blood of a virgin, screams of the pure. At the far end of the stone hallway she staggered down, she sang, gaily.
"Ill winds mark its fearsome flight,
And autumn branches creak with fright.
The landscape turns to ashen crumbs,
When something wicked this way comes."
Across the wall, a phrase was scrawled, in dripping crimson liquid.
The Dark one comes and with her she brings the solemn beat of death's drums.
Beneath the prophecy, lay a warning, maidenly, even in death. Eyes of sapphires and hair spun like gold thread, stained from the blood seeping from her slashed throat.
Clarine.