Merlin of the Dragon's Eye

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

This story is a bit of a retelling of another classic story, as it might have happened in the Housepets universe. I had fun doing research to get some of the details just right. I hope you enjoy it!

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Chapter 1: A Cloaked Stranger

The figure wandering into town wasn’t unexpected. Strangers came and went, people coming to trade or to rest on their way through. The town of Camello was small, but it was the only town along the road for many miles.
What was odd about the figure was his garb- a thin, tan robe that covered most of his body, comprised of several thin pieces of almost transparent material- and his size, merely half the size of a man. He had a large stick that he leaned on heavily as he walked into town, keeping his head down as a ribbonlike strand from his cloak dangled almost to his knees. As he entered into town from the east, a few curious eyes watched him; he looked about, standing on the dirt road and glancing around at all the wooden houses. He paused, then started walking toward the inn. He had an odd, limping stride that seemed to put most of his weight on the staff instead of the foot on that side.
His walking stick clacked on the cobblestone floor as he entered and approached the counter. “Excuse me.” He waited to be acknowledged by the innkeeper, looking up at him in the dim lantern light.
“What can I do for you, stranger?” He leaned over the counter to look down at him.
“Have I arrived in the land of Wales?”
“... Pretty close.” He paused, squinting at him.
The stranger paused. “I would like to charter a room for the night. What are your rates?”
The innkeeper squinted down at him. “Let me see your face, stranger. I wanna be sure I can trust you before I rent you one of my rooms.”
His cloak rustled for a moment before a hand wrapped in the same strange cloth appeared from underneath, pulling back his hood. A pair of triangular ears the color of dirt popped up, and the stranger looked up at the innkeeper. He was a basenji, a very different breed than the local hounds used for hunting or protecting the livestock. Most of his visible fur was the same dark brown as the soil that made up the road, but he had a creamy white stripe that started between his eyes and thickened as it went down over his muzzle and down to his neck.
“No dogs in my beds. You can stay out in the stable with the other dogs, though. No charge for that, but it’ll be a copper for a hot meal.” The innkeeper crossed his arms and stared down at the strange dog.
The dog seemed unperturbed, and his cloak rustled again. His hand drew out a gold coin and placed it on the counter. “I don’t have local money. Here’s a shekel. It should more than cover the cost, even if by the weight of the gold alone. I shall want to stay a few days and rest before traveling on.”
There was a moment’s silence before the innkeeper pocketed the coin. “Supper at sundown. Breakfast at sunup. Luncheon at high noon. Come to the kitchen door, I’ll see that you’re fed. Don’t be causing trouble in my stables.” He turned and dismissed him with a wave.
The stranger pulled his hood back up and turned to leave, closing the door behind him as his walking stick clacked and clattered with every step. Once he was outside, he immediately started walking around the building, rounding the sheep pen to find the stable door. He entered, breathing the smell of horses before making his way to the far wall.
“You lost or something, stranger? This is the stables.” A voice called out. A child’s voice.
The stranger turned to regard the little boy, no more than thirteen or forteen, who was brushing down a chestnut horse from his perch atop a stool nearby. The horse eyed him oddly. He knew he looked odd; his cloak was of the wrong sort entirely for the cold weather here. After a moment, he turned to resume his course toward the wall. “I’m told I may sleep here. I won’t bother you.”
The little boy watched him lean against the wall and lower himself to the floor, using his staff as support even then. Once he was down, he laid his staff across his lap and gave a heavy sigh, seeming relieved as he straightened his legs out to take the weight off his paws. The boy turned and grabbed a water skin off a hook, tossing it to him.
He missed it and leaned to reach for it, grunting gently. It seemed just out of reach until he managed to grab it, uncorking the cap and putting it to his muzzle to drink. “Many thanks, child. I have been walking many days. Many weeks…” He trailed off, looking into the distance, then tossed the water skin back.
The boy caught it and returned it to its hook, eyeing his paws. “You look a bit worse for wear, mister. Your paws…”
He gave a pained groan and pulled his leg around to examine his pads. They were worn almost down to nothing, a few scabs forming where he had worn them raw. “Your roads here are rougher than the roads where I am from, and I have walked a long way with little rest.”
“Can’t have walked too far. On an island, aren’t we? A big one, for sure, but an island.” He returned to brushing the horse’s fur.
“Yes… I had to charter a boat across the channel. I’m headed for Wales.” He straightened his leg out again and let himself lean back against the wall, tilting his head to watch the sunlight reflect off the water trough onto the ceiling, the pattern wavering wildly as the water rippled.
“Gone a bit too far south, you have. Or maybe you just haven’t gone far enough north. Depends where you started, really. Bit of a water inlet if you go straight north, but it’s Wales on the other side.” He casually chatted, patting the horse’s flank as he finished the brushing and climbed down off his stool.
The stranger nodded. “Thank you.” He was quiet a moment. “I passed a castle, some four miles back. Who lives there?”
“Oh, just some warlord. Doesn’t bother to come down this way much, too much trouble for him, but his men sometimes come to buy food. The farmers sell what they can spare and use the money to buy supplies for their farms. It’s a good relationship, if a bit strained.” He busied himself cleaning his brush, sitting on his stool facing the stranger. He seemed happy to have someone to talk to.
“I see. Is there no pharaoh here? Who rules this area? Who is in charge?” He took down his hood again and tilted his head at the boy.
The boy seemed unphased to see his strange breed. “Oh, whoever took over this area most recently. It’s that warlord this week. A few months ago, it was someone else. There’s not really much of a proper king. A few have tried, but it just doesn’t hold together.”
He nodded quietly. “Good. Good.” He leaned back against the wall again and closed his eyes, letting them rest. “I’ll not bother you any further. I’ll let you get on with your business.”
“Oh, it’s never a bother having someone to talk to. Especially someone as interesting as yourself. They call me Art, by the way. I’m just the stable boy. It doesn’t pay much, but I get a pile of hay and a blanket to sleep on, and three meals a day to eat, so what else could I need?” He looked him over. “Might I be asking your name, Mister?”
The dog opened one eye and eyed up the boy. After a moment, he closed his eye again. “I am named Myrrden. If that is too hard to say, you may call me Merlin instead.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

So far I am really getting engrossed in this story and am excited to see the direction that it is going in! I have a feeling that it will be a real gripping read!

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 2: Resting

“Good morning, Mister Merlin.” Art called out cheerfully as he stood up and lit the lantern, waking Merlin from his sleep. “Breakfast soon.” He hummed and got to work, feeding the livestock.
Merlin sat up and rubbed his eyes, blinking as a blanket slid down his chest. “... Where did this come from?”
Art glanced at him. “Looked a bit cold last night, so I put my blanket on you. Must be right warm where you’re from, if’n you’re getting cold on these warm nights.”
He hesitantly nodded. “You could say that. Maybe I should invest in a proper traveling cloak. This one is kind of thin for this area.” He peeled off a layer of his sandy tan cloak, staring at his fingers through it.
Art knelt to have a look. “Don’t recognize this fabric. Don’t imagine it’s much useful for keeping the rain off, or the cold out. Much too thin.”
“No, I guess not. It’s not really a concern where I’m from. It’s mostly to keep the sun off and the sand out of my face.” He grabbed his staff and hefted himself to his paws.
“Should you be walking? Your paws looked horrible last night.” Art paused and gave him a concerned look.
Merlin paused, then lifted a leg to show his paw, the pad looking very much better, though still a little worn. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, at least. “That’s amazing, Mister Merlin. It’s like you got a week’s worth of healing in one night.”
“I’m a fast healer.” He tapped his staff on the ground, then started toward the door. “I’m gonna go get some fresh air. Breakfast at sunup, right?”
Art gave him a thumbs-up. “Right!”
Merlin slipped out and started up the hill just outside of town before flopping over in the grass, letting his hands run through the tiny plants. They didn’t have anything like that back home, it was mostly sand, sandstone, and granite. They felt cool to the touch as he lay on them, and a small amount of dew soaked through his cloak, moistening his back. His eyes rested on the sky, and he gave a slow sigh. The stars twinkled down at him, and he searched them for the constellation Draco. There it was, to the north, though not as low in the sky as he was used to.
He eyed the faint line of pink on the horizon and sighed again, watching as it slowly grew larger and brighter, spreading until it seemed to lighten the whole sky, fading to red, then orange. When it started turning blue, he stood up and leaned on his staff, watching as the edge of the sun started peeking up over the horizon, and then turned to start making his way back down to the inn.
He could smell the scent of warm milk wafting through the chimney, and other smells coming from other chimneys. Warm bread, steam from a fire being doused, lamp oil as people rose to darkened homes all filled the air with a cozy mix of scents. Merlin smiled softly. Mornings smelled more or less the same everywhere, he guessed, save a few minor differences.
He approached the kitchen door of the inn and hesitated, then knocked on the door with his staff, three times in quick succession. After a few moments, the door opened, and a cranky-looking woman glared down at him. “Yes, what is it?”
“The man at the front said I could get food at the back during mealtimes.” He stared up at her, his ears perked. He tried to look as friendly as he could.
“Yeh, he mentioned ya. One moment.” She slammed the door, leaving him standing there awkwardly. After a few moments, the door opened again, and she stuffed a wooden bowl and spoon in his hands. “Don’t make off with my dishes. Bring ‘em back when you’re done.” She slammed the door in his face again.
Merlin sighed and stepped aside, leaning against the outside of the building and lowering himself to the ground before looking to see what he’d been given. His staff lay across his lap as he lowered the bowl to look inside. There was a chunk of bread torn off and set on the edge of the bowl of grayish slop. It was topped with a few berries not unlike some that Merlin had seen growing wild just outside the town, apparently as decoration, but they had been thrown on carelessly, apparently by someone irritated they were serving a dog.
He shrugged and lifted the spoon to taste the porridge. It was sweet, made of ground oats and milk, and still warm. It tasted like it had been sweetened with honey. Honestly, it was better than it looked. It filled Merlin’s belly with a warm sensation as he gulped down every drop and licked the bowl, gnawing on the bread. The bread wasn’t fresh, he could tell for sure, but he didn’t mind day-old bread. It was delicious nonetheless.
Once he was finished, he stood up his staff and used it to push himself back up to his paws, knocking three times on the door once again. The grouchy woman opened the door and glared down at him. “NOW what? I’m BUSY.”
He offered her his bowl and spoon. “Thank you very much, milady. It was delicious.”
She glared down at him, then reached down and snatched the bowl back from him. “Glad you liked it. Now git. No seconds.” She slammed the door. Merlin thought maybe she didn’t slam it quite so hard this time as he turned to walk around the inn back to the main road through town. He wandered to the town square and stood quietly, observing for a while before turning and exiting back up to the hill he’d watched the sunrise from, laying back and watching the blue sky. Clouds rolled past, and a chilly breeze blustered through now and then as he lay there.
After a while, someone joined him. “Hello, Art.” He turned his head to look at the boy. “Shouldn’t you be tending the stables?”
The boy shrugged, laying back on the grass and watching the sky. “Nothing to do this time of day. Livestock’s been fed. Sheep are out to pasture. Horses might need saddling, but if there are, Master Garegg will call for me.”
Merlin’s ears perked. “You call your boss, Master?”
He shrugged again. “What else would I call him? That’s what he is. Not in the sense that he owns me, but… well… he kind of does. If I leave him, I’d have to walk all the way to another town to find work again. Camello’s small, and Garegg’s inn is the only tavern in town. Nobody will risk Garegg’s ire by hiring his stable boy out from under him.”
There was silence for a few moments, then Merlin nodded. “I’ve always hated the word master. It can mean many things… teacher, owner, liege… but I don’t like it. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
Art looked over at him curiously for a moment, then spoke. “Did you have a master, where you came from? With… any of those definitions?”
Merlin was quiet for a long time, staring up at a long, thin cloud that seemed to wave from side to side. “... Yes. I had a master. I left her without permission.”
“Her?!” He sat up and stared at him in surprise for a few moments, then lay back. “Around here, we call them mistress if they’re female. Like the cook back at the inn, Mistress Marie. Garegg’s wife, you know.” He was quiet for a few moments. “Is that why you walked until your paws were bleeding? You were running away?”
Merlin glanced over at him again. “Yes.”

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 3: The Cloak

The sun was high when Merlin raised his staff and used it to pull himself up out of the grass with a grunt of effort and a long sigh. He was resting, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have things he needed to do. He shivered a little in the chill wind and started down toward the town square, where around fifty people moved around and chatted, shopped, and traded.
He paused at the edge of the market, leaning on his staff and watching, his eyes scanning until he found what he was looking for. He started forward, leading with the staff, and approached a trader selling clothing in a tent set up in front of one of the other shops. It seemed to be an extension of the tailor, rather than competing with it.
“Hail, shop keeper. I need a traveling cloak. The one I wear is too cold for this region.” He stood as tall as he could to see over the counter, and the shopkeep leaned forward to look down at him.
“... You got money? You got money, I got cloaks.”
Merlin’s cloak shifted a little, and he placed a gold coin on the counter. The shopkeeper picked it up and examined it. “This real gold?”
“It is.” He nodded.
The shopkeeper bit the coin, then nodded firmly. “Very well. I have tan, like the cloak you’re already wearing. I have brown, black, and gray.”
“Brown, please.” He watched the shopkeeper head back into his tent, then waited a few moments. The shopkeeper returned. “I’m afraid it’s a little big for you.” He passed over a folded cloak.
“That’s fine, I can tailor it. Thank you.” Merlin nodded at him.
The shopkeeper gave him an odd look, then shook his head as he watched him walk away. “Dogs doing their own shopping. What’s next?”
Merlin returned to the stable behind the inn and unfolded the cloak. It was close to his size, but still plenty too big. He frowned and checked that he was alone. The horses seemed to be out to pasture, so there was nobody else here. He checked again, then set the cloak aside and started drawing on the dirt floor with his staff. He drew a circle, then a triangle inside of it before taking down three of the lanterns hanging from the walls and placing one at each point of the triangle. After digging inside his cloak for a moment, he took out a flint and steel, leaning in to light each of the lanterns in turn.
This done, he lifted the cloak and carefully laid it out inside the circle, spreading it out neatly with the hood and cape set as if they were being worn. He stood back and examined his handiwork, then nodded and tapped his staff on the ground, right on the edge of the circle. His eyes lit up green, and he spoke in a gentle, echoing voice.
“I call upon you, oh spirits of the earth, mend this cloth, size it to fit correctly.” Streaks of green energy rose up from the circle and lifted the cloak into the air. Merlin watched as the cloak grew smaller, the cape shortening and the hood shrinking somewhat. Within seconds, the cloak dropped to the ground again, and Merlin bent down to pick it up, holding it up to himself to check if it fit now.
“That was AMAZING! What was that?!” Art’s voice sounded from the door.
Merlin turned to face him, then turned and hurriedly erased the markings on the floor with his paw. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“I won’t tell anyone, honest.” He moved in and looked at the floor. “That was magic, wasn’t it?”
Merlin gave a snort and started unwrapping himself from his old cloak. “Yeah. And you better NOT tell anyone. I’ve heard what you people do when you think there’s a witch among you.”
He flinched, then climbed up to sit on the wall of one of the stalls the horses stayed in.. “Yeah, the adults fear what they don’t understand. But I think it’s interesting. You resized your cloak, right? Normally that would take hours at a tailor!”
Merlin got the wrappings from his old cloak off and slid it off. Underneath, he was wearing a beltlike device that sat crooked across his hips, then from the higher end to his opposite shoulder. It was studded with various pouches, with a knife tucked into a holster on the hip opposite his staff hand, easily accessible.
Art eyed over the belt. “That’s interesting, too. You have a lot of pockets.”
Merlin paused in folding his old cloak to look at it. “Thank you. It’s my own design.” He set aside the old cloak and pulled on the new one. It fit perfectly, and he pulled the neck strap closed and tied it.
Art looked him over and smiled. “You look good in that. Mysterious. How’s it feel? A little warmer?”
He nodded, pulling it around himself like a blanket, then flipping up the hood to try it. “Oh, much, thank you. It doesn’t get so cold in Eg- er… where I come from.” He started picking up the lanterns and blowing them out one by one, returning them to their hooks by hanging them on his staff and carefully raising them up. “Oh, sorry about the lanterns. I really should have used candles, but there were none handy.”
“Hey, no problem. As long as you put them back when you were done.” He shrugged. After a moment, he grinned. “So, curly tail, huh? It’s kinda cute.”
Merlin paused, his ears warming up. “Don’t LOOK!”
Art snickered and watched him. “Oh, that’s ADORABLE. You’re blushing!”
“I’m gonna curse you so hard.”
“No you won’t.” He grinned at him. “By the way, you’re not really supposed to tie the cloak closed directly. The ties are so you can install a clasp. People will look at you weird if you go out looking like that.” He jumped down and ran over to his little corner, looking through his little chest of belongings for a moment before coming up with something. “Here, use this one. It belonged to my father. My mother gave it to me before she died.”
He grabbed Merlin’s hand and placed a small object, or rather, pair of objects, in his hand. Merlin looked down at it. It was two halves of a clasp, made of cast bronze, shaped like a grouping of maple leaves. There were no stones set in it, but it was polished to a shine, like it had been polished dozens of times since it was last used. “You can’t give me a family heirloom. Don’t you want to remember your father?”
Art shrugged. “No, he was a drunkard and a scoundrel who never came back for my mother. Here, let me attach it for you.” He took the clasp back and reached for Merlin’s cloak. Merlin took the cloak off and passed it to him, and Art jumped back up on the horse stall, fiddling with it. Once he got it secured, he passed the cloak back, and Merlin pulled it on again. It took him a moment to figure out how to work the clasp, but then he smiled up at him. “Thanks. It fits perfectly.”
“And it looks great. You look like a wise traveler.”

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 4: Raid

Shouting outside woke Merlin, and he mumbled drowsily, pulling on his cloak and fumbling around for his staff. The light coming through the window flickered oddly, and he smelled smoke- a lot of smoke. He paused at the doorway, frowning. Too much smoke. Something was wrong.
He rushed out of the stable and around the corner to the shouting and saw chaos. People ran this way and that, shouting and trying to draw water from the well or rescue loved ones from burning buildings. Other people rode about on horseback, swinging swords or throwing torches. The mounted people wore chain mail and other bits of armor, and shouted angrily.
Merlin pulled his hood up to help protect his eyes from the blowing smoke and ran into the fray, running to the nearest flaming building. A family hobbled out, coughing and huddling together. Merlin ran up and helped them get clear of the flames. “Is anybody left inside?”
The father shook his head, and Merlin turned to the building. He lifted his staff and pointed it at the building, starting to spin the tip in a wide circle. After two or three revolutions, the very tip of his staff started to glow blue. The color trailed behind his staff, creating a glowing circle. After a few revolutions, he swung his staff behind him and blew in the direction of the circle, putting a hand out between him and the light.
Ice formed in the air beyond the circle and shot toward the burning building, rapidly scattering across the burning until the fire fizzled out, sizzling. Merlin moved on to the next building, then the next, putting out fires as quickly as he could while avoiding the angry men on horseback.
Once a significant portion of the fires had been put out, he noticed that a lot of the shouting had stopped. He turned to see that everyone had stopped to look at him. A man on horseback with a particularly shiny chestplate rode in front of the rest of them. He appeared to be the leader. He stared at Merlin for a few moments.
“Bring the wizard to me.” He pointed at Merlin.
Merlin frowned. “The wizard doesn’t WANT to go to you.” He watched as two of the horsemen started to ride toward him, and frowned. He pointed the top of his staff toward the ground and swung it around him. The tip glowed red, and the ground around him ignited, spooking the horses. They bucked and backed up, giving an alarmed whinny and shouting. Their riders reined them in.
The leader scowled at him. “You can’t hide in there forever, wizard.”
Merlin scowled back and lifted his staff, banging it on the ground and flicking it toward the man. The fire abruptly darted toward him, spooking his horse. He reined it in quickly, preventing it from running. “Your tricks won’t scare me.” He dismounted and started walking toward Merlin, casually walking right through Merlin’s wall of fire and grabbing the top of his staff. “I came here to take the village’s food stocks, and I found myself a wizard.”
He twisted his wrist and jerked Merlin’s staff out of his hand. The fire sizzled out, and he tossed the staff to one of his men nearby. “Come quietly and you will not be harmed. Fight, and you will be very harmed.”
Merlin hesitated, looking around at the villagers running around them, desperately trying to save their homes. “Promise you’ll cause no further harm to the village.”
“You have my word.” The man nodded. “You come along quietly, and the village will not be harmed further this night.”
He put his hands in the air. “Then I surrender.”
“Smart boy.” He gestured toward his horse. “You’ll ride with me, to be sure you don’t try to escape.”
Merlin nodded and started walking. He had a significant limp on his staff side without his staff to lean on. He approached the horse, and was lifted up into the saddle by the bandit leader, who then quickly followed him up, sitting behind him. The villagers pushed around them, trying to save their houses.
“Merlin!” Art pushed toward them. “Merlin! Don’t just let them take you!”
Merlin raised his hand. “It’s okay, Art. I’ll be okay. Stay out of their way, stay safe.”
The bandit leader reined in his horse and turned it. “Enough.” He raised his voice to speak to his men. “We return! Immediately!” He flicked his wrists, and the horse they were riding started galloping. Within seconds, they were outside of the town and riding down the road to the east.
Merlin gripped the horse’s mane, nervous about falling off. They rode for about ten minutes, until the looming castle went from distant to looming high above them.
“Oh… you guys came from HERE?!” He looked up at the castle as the portcullis opened for them.
“Silence, wizard. You will speak when spoken to.” He rode his horse toward a stable with his men at his back. Once there, he dismounted and roughly manhandled Merlin down, shouting orders. “Plunder is to be put away in the treasury, we’ll divide it later. If you have any food, take it to the kitchens. We will feast for luncheon. I have a prisoner to see to.”
He held Merlin by the elbow and roughly led him through a maze of corridors and down a set of stone stairs, dropping him behind a wall of iron bars before closing the door with a loud clanging noise of metal banging on metal.
Merlin stumbled back to his paws and lowered his hood, glaring through the bars at the man. “All right, now you have me. What do you want with me?”
He reached through the bars and slapped him across the face. “I said you speak when spoken to, WIZARD.” His eyes flashed angrily, and after a moment, he started pacing in front of the cell. “I am Uther. You may call me Lord Pendragon.” He paused in pacing and turned to stare at him.
Merlin stared back, leaning on the cell wall. After a moment, he realized that Uther was waiting for him to speak. “Yes, Lord Pendragon.”
Uther gave a satisfied nod and resumed pacing. “I have plans for your magics, but first I have to go to the treasury to split up the spoils of that raid before my men get too riled up. I doubt they got anything valuable, but they’ll be wanting their cut anyway.”
He started to turn to leave, then paused. “Do NOT leave your cell, or the punishment will be more painful than you can imagine. I won’t kill you, not while you can still perform magic, but I can and will make you wish that I would. Don’t forget that.” He turned to leave again with a flourish.
Merlin huddled in his cloak and looked around his cell. It was built for a man, so it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it was intended; there was a pile of stale straw against the wall, and a wooden bucket by the door. From the smell, it hadn’t been cleaned out after the last prisoner, quite some time ago. He could see the keys hanging on a ring by the door, well out of his reach. As high up as they were, he doubted he could reach them even if he were standing directly next to them.
He looked at the ground. It was dirty, for sure, but it was made of stone bricks. He wouldn’t be drawing any runes to help himself escape. At least they hadn’t searched him; he still had his belt with all his pouches, and his knife. He hobbled over to the pile of straw and sat down with a grunt. Nothing to do but wait to see what task was waiting for him.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Truly a wonderful chapter that you have posted here for the story! I do think that this is going to get really interesting soon and will be looking forward to seeing what else happens!

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 5: The Flesh of Ra

The dungeon door slammed, and Merlin grabbed one of the bars of his cell to heft himself to his paws. He leaned on a crossbar as he heard stomping, and Uther came into view a moment later. He glared at Merlin through the bars.
Merlin stared back. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.
After a few moments of glaring back and forth, Uther spoke. “The fires have all been put out or burned their course. I don’t think anybody was seriously hurt.”
Merlin sighed in relief. “That’s good. Why did you attack them? I thought your relationship with them was pretty good.”
“Was.” He snorted. “And then the farmers took the money for trade and didn’t deliver. So we came to get what was ours.”
Merlin nodded quietly, stepping forward. “What do you want with me?”
“You’re going to make me lots of gold.” He stared at him.
“Make you gold? Like… you’re going to sell me?” Merlin tilted his head. “Use me as a sideshow?”
“No.” He crossed his arms and stared at him. He wasn’t wearing his armor anymore, and was instead wearing some fine clothes, thickly woven wool and a cape dyed red. After a few moments, he nodded. “I mean you’re going to MAKE gold. Lots of it. Using your magic.”
Merlin frowned. “MAKE gold? You can’t MAKE gold.”
Uther glared at him, then turned and grabbed the keys off the wall, jamming one into the lock and flinging the door open. He grabbed Merlin by the elbow and dragged him up the stairs down the hall, ignoring his limping and scrambling to try and keep up, and tossed him into a room with one tiny window and several chunks of rough iron. It looked like broken pieces of armor or weapons, or attempts at them that had failed.
He slammed the door and pointed at the chunks of iron. “Turn them into gold.”
Merlin stared at him for a few moments, then snorted. “It isn’t possible. You can’t just turn ANYTHING into gold!”
Uther slapped him across the face and pointed at the chunks of iron again. Merlin scowled at him, rubbing his cheek. After a few moments, he snorted. “... I’ll need my staff.”
Uther’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”
Merlin rolled his own eyes. “So I can walk. Haven’t you noticed that I limp?”
He snorted. “Turn this into gold, and I’ll consider it.” He turned and opened the door, stepping out and turning to face him. “You’re not leaving this room until I see some gold.” He slammed the door. There was a heavy thump of the door being barred, and then his stomping footsteps faded away.
Merlin sighed heavily and looked around the room. Aside from the table with the chunks of iron on it, there was a broken chair, a torn tapestry, a suspicious dark red stain on the floor that Merlin made a point not to step on, and the burnt remains of a bedframe. He hobbled over to the window and stuck his muzzle through the tapered gap in the stone, trying to see outside. He could see the sunset. It had been a full day since he’d been taken, and they hadn’t fed him or given him any water. His stomach growled a little at the thought, and he flinched. He wished he hadn’t eaten all of his travel food while walking all this way.
He pulled his muzzle back, then startled when a face instantly filled the window from the other side. “Hi, Mister Merlin. I found you.”
He put his ears back. “Art?! You shouldn’t be here, what if they catch you? They’ll hurt you!”
“I couldn’t just leave you with them, Mister Merlin. I had to come try and get you out.” He peered through the window.
“Wouldn’t you have to be INSIDE the castle for that?”
“I haven’t figured that part out yet. Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. “No, they haven’t hurt me, but they probably will when Lord Pendragon figures out that I can’t do what he wants me to.”
Art looked startled for a few moments. “Lord Pendragon?” He shook his head. “What’s he want you to do?”
He gestured at the table. “He wants me to turn this iron to nebu- I mean, gold. That can’t be done, it’s impossible. You can’t just MAKE gold, it has to be carved from the body of a god!”
Art was quiet for a moment. “Okay, you lost me there. Just hang in there, I’m going to see if I can break you out. In the meantime…” He disappeared for a moment, then stuffed a bag through the window. “There’s some bread and cheese in there. It’s not great, but it’ll probably help you stay fed until I can sneak in. I’ll try tonight once everybody’s asleep.”
Merlin leaned closer to the window. “Art, wait-!” He reached through and grabbed Art’s arm. “Don’t. I’ll be fine. Don’t risk your safety for me. You’re a CHILD. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Art looked back at him. Merlin let go. “I’m going to try, Mister Merlin. Because you were nice to me when everybody else ignores me because I’m an orphan.” He turned and ran off.
Merlin squeaked through the window. “Art, no, WAIT!” He gave a frustrated grunt and let himself sink to the floor, snatching up the bag Art had stuffed through the window and opening it up. The bread was stale and the cheese was slightly moldy, but it was good anyway. He wished there was some water he could drink to wash it down. He folded the cloth bag and tucked it away inside one of his pouches, then decided to pass the time by going through his pouches to see what he had with him.
He had four pouches along his waist, and three more on the vertical part of his harness. The first pouch was full of coins; he could tell what each was made of by feeling it, without pulling it out. The second was where he’d just stuffed Art’s bag; it still smelled of the dried meat he’d filled it with for his travels. The third had scraps of papyrus, a reed pen, and a bottle of ink. He supposed he could use that to transcribe some runes if he really had to, but without candles, it was kind of useless. The fourth pocket along his belt held his flint and steel and a small whetstone that he used to sharpen his knife now and then.
He switched to checking the pockets on the vertical strap. The topmost one had some river stones he’d picked up during his travels that he’d particularly liked; they were smooth and vaguely shiny, but not particularly useful. The one in the middle held medicinal herbs; the mix could be ground into a powder and mixed with water to make a poultice or medical potion. The lowest one held a protective amulet given to him by his master; it resembled an eye with a scar below it, and was carved from a green stone that glistened in the light. It was made of Olivine, but seemed to also produce a small amount of its own light as he held it in his hand. He contemplated it for a while, then stuffed it back into its pouch when he heard angry footsteps approaching.
The door swung open, and Uther appeared in the doorway, sneering. “My guards said there was a boy at your window. What did he give you?”
Merlin glared at him, then snorted. “He gave me some food. A bit of bread and cheese.”
Uther glared at him, then tossed him a water pouch. “Make it last. It’s all you’re getting today.” He glanced at the table, where the chunks of iron were still waiting, then snorted, turned, and slammed the door on his way out.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 6: Jailbreak

Merlin lay on the floor of the room that had become his prison. The moon shone through the window, dimly illuminating the room. There were no lanterns nor candles he could light to see, so he was forced to endure the darkness. As he lay there, he reached into his pouch and pulled out the Olivine amulet, looking at it and its faint green glow. He sighed.
Time passed like sand through the hourglass, and he tried to sleep, but the floor was hard and uncomfortable, and the air chilled him even through his cloak. He pulled it closer around him, wishing for the comfort of a fire, even the small one a lantern could provide. The castle was full of odd noises; distant laughter, scritching and scurrying noises of rats, and the occasional sounds of crumbling and water dripping. It wasn’t very pleasant, especially given the conditions of the room Merlin was in.
Just as the distant voices fell quiet and Merlin was starting to doze fitfully, the sound of the heavy wooden bar being removed from the door sounded. He froze, cracked one eye open, and watched, pretending to be asleep. It sounded like whoever was trying to open his door was struggling. After a few moments, there was a loud thump as the bar slipped free and clattered to the ground, then several moments of silence.
When no footsteps came running, the door opened slowly, and a small figure entered the room. “Merlin? You in here?”
Merlin sat up. “... Art? What are you- you’re gonna get caught!” He whispered harshly, struggling to pull himself up to his paws against the wall. “Get out of here!”
“Not without you, Mister Merlin.” He whispered back, rushing to help him up.
He grunted, leaning slightly onto Art. “I can’t walk fast enough to escape this place. Just go. I’ll be fine.”
“No, sir. I’m getting you out of here.” He started walking toward the door, holding Merlin up with an arm and crouching to do so.
Merlin grunted. “We need my staff. It helps me walk.” He limped along next to him, putting his ears back.
“It’s in the treasury.” He grunted back to him. “We could probably get in there. They don’t guard it.”
“How do you know?” He put his ears back and limped along next to him.
“It took a while to find you. I’ve been here for hours.” He led them down a hall. It was dark, but at least they were moving. Merlin put his ears back as they approached a heavy-looking reinforced wooden door. “This is it. I’m gonna put you against the wall so I can go in and get your staff.” He walked over to the wall and leaned Merlin against it.
Merlin nodded and braced himself against the wall, standing mostly on his own. He watched as Art pulled all his weight against the door, and it opened with a quiet creak. He kept pulling until it was open enough for him to slip through the crack, and quickly disappeared inside. A few moments later, he reappeared, holding Merlin’s staff. It looked much smaller in his hands, since he was taller than Merlin.
“Here.” He whispered, placing the staff in Merlin’s hand. “This way.” He pointed, gesturing back down the way they’d come. “It’s not too far to the exit. If we’re quiet, we can escape.”
Merlin nodded and lurched forward, leaning on his staff. He could walk a lot faster now, even trying to be quiet. Art led him back down the hall, but after a few dozen paces, Merlin stopped and put his staff out to stop Art, his ear twitching. “Get in the corner.” He pointed his staff at a corner they’d just gone around. “Quickly.”
As Art scurried to the corner, shouting started up nearby. Very nearby. Angry footsteps started running down the hall, and Merlin stood in front of Art. He set his paws and held his staff in the middle, starting to spin it in a circle. Both ends started to glow, forming a complete circle in half a revolution, which filled with an odd shimmer effect. “Stay silent as you can.” Merlin whispered, crouching next to Art.
Uther stomped down the hall, pausing right next to them and looking around. “The wizard has escaped! Somebody LET him out! Find him! Check the treasury, he’ll be wanting his staff!” He stomped on.
Once he was out of sight, Art let out a sigh of relief. “How did he not see us?”
Merlin immediately stood up and started hobbling toward the door. “Invisibility shield. We gotta go.”
Art followed him, darting ahead to open the door for him, balking at the portcullis being closed behind it. “Oh no, they must have closed the portcullis when they went to bed!” He darted across and grabbed the big, heavy gate that was blocking his way.
Merlin stepped into the gatehouse and closed the door behind him. “Move.”
Art stepped aside, staring at Merlin. “What are you going to do? What CAN you do? We’re trapped.”
Merlin tapped the portcullis with his staff, then took a few steps back. “I can do this.” He set his paws and lifted his staff, jamming it forward bottom-first toward the portcullis, then giving a grunt of effort as he pulled the top part down. The portcullis lifted as if it was on a lever, and Art grunted and dove under it.
Merlin dropped his staff back down to the ground. The portcullis immediately fell back into place with a heavy thump. Art cried out and turned. “Merlin-!”
Merlin shook his head. “Get out of here! These men are dangerous!”
“I’m not going without you, Mister Merlin.” He stared at him with big, brown eyes.
Merlin opened his mouth to answer, then flicked his ear. “Hide, they’re coming to check the gatehouse.” He backed into the corner and swung his staff, vanishing. Art gasped and darted around the side of the gatehouse to hide.
Uther ran into the gatehouse, kneeling to stare at the ground. After a moment, he cursed and turned to yell back into the castle. “Open the portcullis, he’s already escaped!”
After a few moments, the gate started to rise slowly with a clanking of chains. As soon as it was up high enough for a man on horseback to pass through, Uther led a dozen or so men out. They scattered; some went east along the road, the rest went west back toward Camello. The portcullis closed again behind them.
After a few moments, Art stepped out of the overgrown grass to the side of the gatehouse and looked after them. “They don’t seem happy that I’m not in the palace anymore.” Merlin stood next to him, leaning on his staff.
There was a pause, and then Art turned to look at him. “Mister Merlin, you-”
“Quiet, there’s still a few in there. Come on, we gotta travel off the road so they don’t see us on the way back.” He pointed with his staff to the hills. “Straight shot back to town. It’ll take longer, but we’ll be safer.”
Art hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Let’s go. I’m in for the yelling of a lifetime when I get back. I should have been at the stables this whole time.”

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 7: Walk Back

Merlin and Art plodded along in silence through an orchard not far off the road. The only sound was the gentle thudding of Merlin’s staff striking the ground with each step, swung in unison with his bad leg. The stars twinkled overhead; insects called out to each other.
After a long while, Art chanced talking. “I don’t hear them anymore. They must have given up for now. They’ll probably resume searching in the morning.”
Merlin nodded and leaned against a tree, lowering himself to the ground and laying his staff across his lap. “Then we’ll rest here for a few hours and pick up again when the sun starts to rise.”
Art hesitated. “Why? It’s not that far back to the village?” He sat down next to Merlin, watching him closely, then blinked. “You… can’t see at night, can you?”
Merlin shook his head. “My night vision is very poor. I can use my staff to guide my steps, but not while making very good time. I fear that if we continue tonight I may injure myself.”
Art sighed and lay back in the grass at the foot of the tree they’d stopped against. “And a fire’s a bad idea. They’d see the light, even through the trees. We aren’t very far from the castle.”
Merlin nodded, drawing his cloak around himself. He actually wouldn’t much mind a fire, but he agreed that it would be a bad idea. “Yes. Try and get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
He was quiet for a long time, and Merlin thought that maybe he’d gone to sleep. Then, after a while, Art spoke again. “Mister Merlin? How did you hurt your leg?”
Merlin was quiet for a moment. He looked up at the sky. “... I was born with it.” For a moment, it looked like that was all he was going to say, then he resumed. “One of my legs is a little shorter than the other, and my eyesight is poor. I’m a hunting breed, and I couldn’t hunt, so I was almost killed shortly after my birth.”
“That’s awful.” Art looked over at him. “But… obviously, you weren’t, so…?” He urged him.
“My master. She took pity on me and rescued me. She raised me from a few months old and taught me everything I know.” He looked up at the sky, then lay back and turned to his side. “And to repay her, I ran away. I’m a horrible disciple.”
Art’s hand fumbled in the dark for Merlin, and squeezed his hand. “Why did you run away?”
There was another pause. “She wanted me to do something I didn’t agree with. It’s hard to explain; she’s in… kind of a fight with someone. Someone who’s very close to being able to fight back. She wanted me to sabotage it, which I didn’t approve of. I didn’t think it was fair to attack someone who can’t fight back. So instead, I left.”
“What did she want you to-” His words were interrupted when the rounded top of Merlin’s staff gently covered his mouth.
“Sleep, Art. Sleep. I’ve been up since before Ra began his journey in the sun barge yesterday, and I am very tired. We’ll talk some more tomorrow.” He closed his eyes and drew his cloak in tighter.
Art sighed and closed his eyes. “Yes, sir, Mister Merlin.”

A bird sang nearby, startling Art out of his sleep. He opened his eyes and saw the sky starting to turn pink. He sat up with a yawn and looked around. Merlin was standing nearby, leaning on his staff as he watched the sun starting to rise. He didn’t even turn around. “Good morning. Apophis has once again been vanquished by Set-Ra, and Khepri-Ra begins his journey anew.”
Art rubbed his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He pushed himself up off the ground and staggered to his feet, looking down at Merlin. “I thought we were going to leave before sunup.”
“We’re leaving now. I was just about to wake you.” He nodded in the direction of Camello village. “That way, about two miles. We got further than I thought last night.”
Art looked in the direction he indicated. He couldn’t see anything but the orchard’s trees. “Are you sure? I can’t see anything.”
“Not see. Smell. Smoke, from the fires Uther’s men started, and bread cooking.” He nodded. “Trust me, it’s there.” He started off, his staff thumping heavily.
Art scrambled to catch up with him. “If you say so.” He walked along with him quietly, then looked down at him.
“You’re staring.” Merlin didn’t have to look up to feel his gaze. “You have questions.”
Art was quiet for a few moments. “Are you worried your Master will come after you?”
“... No. I took precautions to make sure she couldn’t find me unless I wanted her to.” He tapped his staff against the ground with a grunt. “Normally, she could track me anywhere, but right now she can look all she wants and she won’t find me.”
“But you were still worried enough to walk until your paws bled.” He glanced down at Merlin’s paws, just barely visible under his cloak. “Are… your paws all right, by the way? I know they were mostly healed the other day, but…”
“I’m fine.” He glanced up at him. “How about you? You were out pretty late for a kid your age.”
“I’ll be fine, I’m just a little tired.” He rubbed his eyes, then blinked, sniffing the air. “I… I think I smell the smoke now.”
Merlin nodded. “We’re nearly there. Another five minutes. You humans really do have a weaker sense of smell, don’t you?”
Art shrugged. “I guess so.”
They walked in silence until they crested a small hill, and the town came into view. Two buildings were gone entirely and several more had been burnt to rubble, but the town seemed very much alive. Some of the ruins still smoldered a little, but the fires were out.
As they watched, the men from the castle rode out of town back toward the castle. Apparently, they had headed to town at first light to search for Merlin.
Merlin paused once his paws touched the dirt road and turned to face Art. “We’re safely back in the village. Now…” He bonked Art on the head with his staff.
“OW! What was that for?!” Art rubbed his head, glaring at Merlin.
“What were you THINKING, breaking into a castle full of angry armed men?! You could have been seriously hurt, or worse, KILLED! I told you to go! I could have escaped on my own at any time, but I was worried that if I did they would retaliate against the village! You endangered not only yourself, but the whole village with your STUPID little stunt!”
Art pouted, rubbing his head. “You’re my friend. I couldn’t just leave you in there.” He swatted Merlin’s staff away. “Don’t hit me anymore. That hurt.”
Merlin scowled at him, then turned and headed toward the inn. “Come on, sunup is nearly over. We’ll miss breakfast.”
Art huffed and followed Merlin around to the inn’s kitchen door, watching him knock with his staff. The cook opened the door, scowled at them, then pushed two bowls into their hands. “Nae bread left. Just porridge today.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Merlin nodded and took a seat next to the door, laying his staff across his lap. Art sat next to him and started eating his porridge quietly.
“You said the warlord’s name was Pendragon?” He glanced sideways at Merlin, who gave a curt nod. He looked back down at his porridge. “... I think he might be my father.”

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 8: Pendragon

Merlin leaned against the horse stall and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He could feel a headache pounding behind his forehead, and it was getting worse. “Okay. One more time. You think the horrendous warlord that burned the village down and kidnapped me might be your father because…?”
Art sighed, sitting on his little stool and tossing a fistful of hay in the air to watch it fall. “Because before my mother died of the illness, she said my father was a man named Pendragon.”
There were a few moments of silence between the two of them, and then Merlin motioned for Art to go on.
Art sighed. “My mother was a… shall we say… lady for hire? To put it politely? In one of the larger towns, the big ones with stone buildings. My father bought her out of the business and took her to his home on the outskirts of town, where they were married and lived together for several years. When I came along, both my mother and my father were very pleased.”
He paused to take a deep breath. “However, about a year after my birth, the local lord went to war against his neighbor, and my father was conscripted. While he was gone, our home was more or less undefended, as it was outside the city gates, and we were attacked by bandits. My mother fled, and the bandits burned down our house.”
He shook his head. “When we were unable to get word to my father, my mother took me and left town. She brought me here to stay with her sister, where she could find work, and we left word with several friends of my father’s to let him know where we could be found, but he never came looking for us. Mother always suspected that Father’s friends let him think we were dead because they didn’t approve of Mother’s past.”
Merlin nodded. “Okay, so I think I’m with you so far. You were separated from your father because of a war and your mother brought you here so she could work to feed you.”
Art nodded. “Yes, And we lived here for years. Eventually, though, my mother grew ill. She grew very weak and told me that my father’s name was Pendragon on her deathbed. I think she hoped I would find him one day.” He paused, thinking. “I was… eight? I think? At the time. She died, and was buried not far away, in the graveyard by the cathedral. After that, I was an orphan, and my mother’s sister’s husband gave me a job working his stables in exchange for a place to sleep and food to eat, and I work there to this day.”
Merlin paused, staring at him with his jaw hanging open. “Your aunt and uncle own this inn? And they make you sleep in the stable?”
He nodded. “They let me sleep in the stable as long as I keep the place clean, take care of the horses and sheep when they’re in, and ready horses for customers when they’re ready to leave. It’s very nice of them, they didn’t have to do that.”
He shook his head incredulously. “They did. Where I come from, to do anything else is not only rude, it’s UNHEARD of. They should be letting you sleep inside, or at least by the fire. This is cruel! And to FAMILY, no less!” He snorted and grabbed his staff from where it leaned. “I’m going to go give them a piece of my mind.”
Art cried out and grabbed for his cloak. “Mister Merlin, no! I don’t mind, really!” He paused. “Besides, didn’t you say they were going to KILL you at birth just because of your leg?”
Merlin hesitated. “My leg and my eyes, yes…” He took a deep breath. “Okay. I won’t go and yell at them.”
He set his staff back against the stable post and looked at Art. “What do you plan to do about it? About Uther, I mean. You can’t exactly just walk up there and say ‘hi, I think you might be my daddy.’ He’d have you killed!”
Art shrugged. “Probably nothing. It’d be nice to know for sure, though.”
“I bet it would.” Merlin nodded in agreement, then picked up his staff again and started to hobble toward the door. “I must go and see what I can do to help clean up after the raid.”
“That’s not a good idea.” Art shook his head and moved to get between him and the door.
Merlin snorted and banged his staff on the ground, trying to move around him. When Art moved to block him again, he scowled. “Stand aside, Art. Let me pass.”
Art shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “And if Lord Pendragon should see you here? You think he’ll leave ANY of the village standing then? It’s a better idea to lay low until they stop looking for you.”
Merlin scowled and banged his staff on the ground again. “I want to help!”
“And I’m telling you, it’s a bad idea.” He frowned. “You can help by not letting them find you. Okay?”
Merlin glared at Art for a few moments, then snorted and turned, hobbling across the stable to his patch of straw and lowering himself down with a grunt, sliding his hand down his staff as he did so. Once he was down, he laid his staff across his lap and placed his hands shoulder width apart on it. “I’m going to meditate for a while.” He closed his eyes.
Art watched him for a few moments, then shook his head and got to work tending the horses. He tried to remain quiet. A few times, he heard Uther’s men ride through town looking for Merlin, but they never got close, so he wasn’t particularly worried about it.
They were quiet together for a long time. Art brushed down the horses and led them out to the fenced-in yard to graze and get some sunshine, then came back in to muck out the stables. He was finished and leaning back to take a break before Merlin’s steady breathing faltered. He took a deep breath, then frowned and opened his eyes. “Oh, no…” He groaned.
“What?” Art looked around, then sniffed the air. “I don’t smell anything.”
Merlin stood his staff up and dragged himself up by it, standing up and facing the door. A moment later, footsteps sounded on the dirt outside. They paused, and Art crouched.
“What is it? WHO is it? Is it Uther?” He whispered to Merlin nervously.
“No, it’s worse.” Merlin spoke, his hand crossing his body to grab his staff in both hands.
After a moment, the door rattled and opened, and a cat walked in. She was dressed in a similar cloth to what Merlin had been wearing when he’d entered town, but not as a cloak; hers was a hooded shirt, with the hood hanging loose around her shoulders, and a skirt, buckled around her waist in gold. She had gold-colored bracers on, though given that she didn’t seem to have trouble moving her wrists, it was more likely they weren’t PURE gold. She was also wearing a sort of collar made of the same gold-colored metal, striped through with some kind of blue stone; it came from her neck out to her shoulders. A single earring studded one of her ears, and she had a signet ring on one finger. Her fur was a sort of golden-brown color, studded through with spots of dark brown and black, the lighter being toward her belly and the darker toward her back.
The cat blinked, giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness before she started turning her head, scanning the inside of the stable. Her eyes stopped on Merlin, and she grinned, crossing to him. “Myrrden! THERE you are!”
Merlin sighed and let go of his staff with his other hand, putting his ears back and speaking crankily. “Gwenddydd.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

I have to say this story is very different from the other ones which are usually more slice-of-life instead of having anything to do with fantasy as you usually do the former genre well. But I do like how this is coming out and continue to look forward to more!

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 9: Gwenddydd

The cat surged forward and started circling Merlin, poking and prodding at him. “What are you WEARING? Wool? And what is THIS?” She grabbed his staff and jiggled it. “Wood? Where’s your Ankh scepter?” She poked his nose. “Myrrden, what have you been UP to?”
Merlin grumbled and pushed the cat away. “Get off of me, Gwenddydd. Personal space.” He stomped his staff on the ground and scowled at her.
Art snickered. “A friend of yours, Mister Merlin?” He sat himself back down on his stool now that he didn’t suspect there was danger.
The cat grinned, purring and grabbing onto Merlin in a big hug. “Myrrden and I are BEST friends!”
Merlin shoved her off with a grunt. “She’s… there’s not really a word for our relationship. Sister, I guess would be closest. She’s my sister. Gwenddydd, this is Art. Art, Gwenddydd.” He put his hand on his hip and raised his staff-side leg off the ground, leaning heavily on the staff. “Gwenddydd, what are you DOING here? You’re SUPPOSED to be back at home.”
Gwenddydd pouted. “Aww, but I missed you, Myrrden. Plus, when Master couldn’t see you and a few days had passed, she got really mad. It was raining so hard the river flooded. And then when she sensed magic the other day, she ported me here to check it out.” After a moment, she realized she was being rude and turned to Art. “OH! It’s nice to meet you, Art.” She gave a little bow, then turned back to Merlin, putting her hands on her hips. “Master says she’s going to make you give her the Dragon Eyes. All of them. And you’re grounded.”
Merlin snorted. “How’s she gonna TAKE ‘em when she can’t see ‘em?”
Gwenddydd hesitated. “Good point. Come on, let’s port back and we can ask her. I bet we could do it in two or three jumps with our combined power.” She grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the door.
Merlin snorted and stepped back, pulling his arm free. “I’m not going back. Ever.”
She huffed and turned to face him. “Come on, Myrrden, stop messing around. Master’s waiting. Let’s GO.”
He banged his staff on the ground. “I mean it. I’m not going back. I’m tired of… everything back home. The drama. Being coddled and cooed over by the peasants. Being treated like some kind of Senet piece by Master. I’m just done.”
Gwenddydd hissed at him angrily. “You can’t just LEAVE! What if Master NEEDS you? The Gryphon-”
“-HASN’T made a move in ten thousand years, and isn’t going to make a move now. Master will be FINE.” Merlin interrupted sternly. “Go home, Gwen.”
Gwenddydd’s eyes flashed angrily. “I can’t. I promised Master I’d bring you home. If I go back without you…”
“Master will be disappointed, but she’ll get over it.” He pointed at her with his staff. “Now go!”
She snorted and batted his staff aside. “Don’t point that thing at ME, Mister, or I’ll shorten your other leg to match.”
Merlin glowered at her, his ears going back. “Milk-licking kiss-up.”
She glared back and hissed quietly. “Limp-footed goody-goody.”
“Fuzzy little perfect princess.” He swiped at her with his staff, causing her to jump back and swipe back with her claws.
“Near-sighted nerdy little son of a-”
“Guys, stop fighting.” Art stepped between them and put his arms out, pushing each of their heads back. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but Uther’s men are still looking for Merlin. He can’t go ANYWHERE right now without risking Uther burning the town down.”
“Looks like he already did.” Gwen snarked. “I counted, what, five burnt-down buildings when I entered town?”
Merlin huffed. “He raided the village yesterday morning, something about the farmers not delivering enough food for his liking.”
“Where did you hear that?” Art looked down at Merlin.
“Uther told me while I was in his dungeon.” He shrugged.
“Why were you in his dungeon?” Gwen stared at Merlin.
“Uther took his staff, so he had to surrender. I busted him out, though.” Art looked proud of himself.
“What’s the staff got to do with it? He could have busted himself out. It’s just a stone castle.” She gestured at Merlin.
Art turned his head to Merlin. “Really? You could have gotten out any time? What about your staff? You can’t do magic without your staff…”
“Did he tell you that?” Gwen rolled her eyes. “It’s not true, he doesn’t NEED the staff. Back home, he didn’t even HAVE a staff, he had a golden scepter with an Ankh on the top.”
Art faltered. “N-no, he didn’t SAY so, I just kind of assumed because he stopped when they took his staff…”
Merlin shrugged. “No sense fighting when I could go with them and get them to leave the village alone. I can always escape later, or hope that they get bored and let me go when I can’t do what they want.”
“And what DID they want you to do, Myrrden? What did they want that the MIGHTY Myrrden couldn’t do?” She flourished her hands with a sarcastic roll of her eyes.
“He wanted me to turn iron into gold.” He leaned on his staff, staring out the window.
“That’s not even possible.” She snorted.
“That’s what I told him. He didn’t believe me.” The two stared at each other for a few moments, then Merlin spoke again. “Go home.”
“Not without you.” She narrowed her eyes and started walking around him, dragging her foot to start inscribing a circle in the dirt.
Merlin snorted and stepped out of the circle, and she stopped. “Do I look stupid? I’m not going to stand here and let you draw a portation circle around me.”
“I’m so glad you asked. Yes. Yes, you do look stupid.” She smirked wickedly.
Merlin’s eyes flashed with anger. “Why you little-” He swung his staff at her, leaving a trail of red light that went right through where she’d been standing as she jumped back. As soon as he’d finished the arc, he shot his other hand forward, and the arc shot toward her, passing through where she’d been standing and wrapping around one of the stable’s posts. After a few moments, it disappeared, and she stood up, glaring at him.
“You almost HIT me with that!” She held a fist back, a golden light shining from it, and then swung it toward Merlin. He stepped back and let it pass in front of his muzzle, then bonked her over the head with his staff.
“OW!” She yelled, rubbing her head, then hissed and jumped at him. A strong hand snatched her by the scruff, then another grabbed Merlin by the cloak. The glow in Gwen’s hands stopped abruptly.
“Well, well, look what I found here. My little wizard, and a witch to go with. It’s my lucky day.” Uther grinned down at them, holding his prize aloft in his hands. One of his men had Art restrained with a hand around his mouth.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 10: Uther

“Put me down, you ugly BRUTE! I can take ya! Fight me like a man!” Gwenddydd’s shouts sounded as she struggled against Uther’s grip. He and a couple of his men were dragging Merlin, Gwenddydd, and Art through the corridor back at the castle. Merlin recognized the route from his first visit; they were headed back to the dungeon. He hoped they’d cleaned out the bucket this time.
Gwenddydd’s shouting continued even as Uther tossed them each into separate cells, adjacent to one another, with Art between Merlin and Gwenddydd. Merlin grunted as he hit the hard stone, then watched Uther take his staff from the man that had been carrying it. He held it aloft and stared Merlin in the eye. “So, you think you can just leave Uther Pendragon’s castle without being given leave?” He brought the staff down and snapped it over his knee.
Merlin reached out in shock. “No-!” He put his ears back and stared in horror at the remains of his stick. Uther threw the pieces on the floor and stomped a few cells over. “As for you, little miss witch…”
“Get in here and fight me you- OOF!” She grunted when Uther reached through the bars and punched her in the gut, knocking her back onto her tail.
He pointed down at her. “Take all that gold off and put it outside your cell by the time I get back, or I’ll have my men TAKE it off you, and they won’t be gentle.” He motioned to his men, and they left the room. The door locked behind them, and their footsteps faded.
Merlin grunted and grabbed the cell bars to pull himself up, scowling at the broken remains of his staff. Art reached through and gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm. “Sorry about your staff. You okay?”
He grunted and eyed the staff. “That was a really good stick. It’s going to take me ages to find another one and whittle it down to a usable state.”
Gwen huffed, sitting up and rubbing her belly where Uther had punched her. “If you’d been using your scepter like you were SUPPOSED to be, he couldn’t have broken it.”
“No, he would have just TAKEN it instead. Maybe melted it down to make coins out of.” He scowled across Art’s cell at her, letting go of the cell bar and cocking his hip. Art blinked at the sight; something didn’t look right. After a moment, he realized what it was: though his hip was cocked considerably, neither of his legs were bent to allow it to happen, and in fact his hip was cocked to allow the foot on that side to touch the ground.
“You really DO have one leg shorter, don’t you?” He stared at it. “You’d told me, but I hadn’t actually checked.”
“Well, DUH. He doesn’t use a walking stick for the fun of it, you know.” Gwen rolled her eyes, then hopped to her paws. Her hand started to glow. “All right, that’s enough fun and games. I’m busting out of here.”
Merlin’s ears twitched. “Gwenddydd, DON’T.”
She snorted, rearing back. “Why WOULDN’T I? It’ll be SUPER easy, just one punch and then we’re out of here!”
Merlin gave a frustrated grunt. “Will you just STOP and THINK before you act for ONCE in your life?!” He yelled at her angrily. “If you smash that open, it’s going to make a lot of NOISE. There are at LEAST fifty men in this castle beholden to Uther, there’s not even the SLIGHTEST chance that nobody’s going to hear it! And then they’ll ALL come running RIGHT HERE to investigate!”
Gwen shrugged. “So we’ll run. We’ll be LONG gone before they get here.” She reared back again, ready to punch at the lock on her cell.
“We’ll WHAT?!” Merlin snorted, stomping his paw, which unbalanced him momentarily and caused him to have to grab his cell bars to steady himself.
Gwen stopped mid-punch, her ears going back. She turned to look at Merlin for a moment. “Oh… right. You can’t run.” Her hand stopped glowing, and she stepped backward, looking defeated.
Merlin snorted and hobbled over to his pile of moldy straw, plopping down onto it. “We’re going to need a plan to get out of here. A plan that involves us having plenty of time to be gone before they notice, so we have time to get away.”
Gwen grumbled and paced in her cell. “Ugh… I hate it when you’re right. Which is most of the time, but STILL.”
Merlin reached into his pouch under his cloak and pulled out the Olivine eye amulet, tapping it on his hand. “If Art wasn’t here I could just break this, and let Master port us out of here… Unfortunately, I don’t think she’d be willing to wait long enough to listen after I ran away.”
Art eyed the amulet curiously. “What is that thing? It looks like it’s glowing.”
Merlin held it up by the attached cord. “It’s just a little something I made myself. I call them Dragon’s Eyes. As long as I’m carrying one and I don’t make too much of a commotion, our master can’t see me. She can still sense if I do magic, but without sending Gwenddydd, she can’t tell what kind of magic I’m using or where exactly I am, just a general idea.”
Gwen huffed, glaring at Merlin. “She never really cared much before, but about two months ago, GIMPY here decided he was just going to take off all his sacred adornments and leave. It took us almost a week of searching before we found someone who’d seen him rent a camel and leave town. By then, he could have been ANYWHERE. We decided to just wait for him to use his magic before trying to catch up with him. What we didn’t count on, was that he would just REFUSE to use any magic for AGES.”
Merlin huffed. “If I’d told you I was leaving or where I was going, it would have defeated the purpose of RUNNING AWAY.”
She stuck her head through the bars into Art’s cell, hissing at Merlin. “Look here you little-”
“Guys! Focus! Escape plans, remember? Merlin, what does breaking the amulet do?” Art spoke over Gwen until she pulled her head back and glowered across the cell at Merlin.
Merlin stared at the amulet contemplatively for a few moments. “Breaking them breaks the spell, and allows Master to see me. She’d come and break me out of here, and Gwenddydd too, but she’d probably do so too quickly for us to ask her to take you, too.”
Art nodded. “So, we’ll save that as a last resort. Maybe if we can get all together in the same space, you can hold onto me or something, and she’d have no choice but to take me? Who is your master, anyway? You’ve never really told me much about- actually, no, never mind, it isn’t important.”
Gwen punched her cell door angrily, though not using her power. “This is STUPID! I say we FIGHT our way out! The two of us have MORE than enough power to take these guys on!”
“And what of the village? If we hurt them, what do you think Uther will do to the village? He already burnt part of it down because he didn’t like how much food they delivered. What do you think he’ll do if he thinks they’re hiding us again, or that we’re part of the village and are rebelling? Honestly, this ‘fight first and think never’ attitude is why you were never any good at Senet.” Merlin snorted.
“You take that back!” Gwenddydd hissed at him through the bars.
Art sighed. However long he was stuck here, it was going to feel like a VERY long time indeed.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 11: Plots

Gwen glowered at Merlin as she stripped off her gold adornments. She had some trouble with the earring, but the bracers and collar came off easily. “This plan is stupid.”
Merlin pointed at her waist. “The belt, too.”
She glared at him, then unclipped the shiny clasp, the segmented gold belt clicking against itself as she stuck her hand out through the cell bars and dropped it into the pile.
“Give me your signet ring, I’ll hold onto it so he doesn’t take it. He probably won’t notice that it’s not there.” Merlin stuck his hand through the bars, and Gwen hissed at him, taking off the ring and crankily smacking it into Art’s hand. Art crossed his cell and passed it to Merlin, who pulled it in under his cloak and slipped it into one of his pouches.
Gwen stared at the stack of her shiny pieces she’d brought with her. “Remind me again how giving up my sacred adornments gets us out of here?”
Merlin sighed heavily. “Uther wants gold so he can keep his men happy. I’m hoping if we give it to him, he’ll let us go. Or, at least not be mad at us anymore.”
“You’re… Hoping. You’re giving up the sacred adornments on ‘I hope.’ If this doesn’t work, Master is going to KILL you.” She paused. “Unless Uther kills you, and then she’s going to resurrect you and kill you again.”
Merlin flinched. “That assumes she can find me.” He shook his head. “It’s going to work, don’t worry. He’ll be happy enough with the gold that his attention will be off us long enough for us to make our escape.”
“You think.” Art clarified. “It could have no effect at all. Or it could make things worse. Give him what he wants, and he might become greedy.”
Merlin stared at him. “... Yes, that is a possibility.” He sighed and leaned back. “If there was another way we could be sure he wasn’t going to check up on us for at least a couple hours, we could break out and sneak away. Not back to town. Somewhere else.”
Art snorted. “Yeah. Like where? The next nearest town is a half day’s walk away, when you CAN walk.”
Merlin sat back and stared at the ceiling quietly for a few moments. After a moment, he sat up. “Did you mention that there’s a cathedral nearby?”
Art blinked. “Yeah, a couple miles away. Why?”
Merlin pulled himself up to his feet laboriously before answering. “Because, they think Gwenddydd’s a witch. They’d never look for a witch in a place of worship. So it’s the perfect place to hide out for a while, until they assume we’ve moved on. And then, we can ACTUALLY move on.”
Art frowned. “You mean… leave? I’ve lived here as long as I can remember, I can’t just LEAVE!”
Gwen raised an eyebrow. “You wanna stick around so this Uther guy can capture you again? Maybe be less kind about it?”
He slumped. “Oh… I guess you’re right. As long as Uther and his men are hanging around, I guess I can’t really stay. Not now that they know I was helping you.”
The door burst open, and Uther stomped in, glowering at them. He looked at the pile of golden objects by Gwen’s cell, then looked her over, motioning for her to turn. She snorted and did so, holding her hands out. He nodded. “You were smart to obey. If I’d had to have my men take it from you, it would have been… unpleasant, for you.” He knelt and started picking up the pieces, then grunted. He seemed to be struggling to lift the metal. He did eventually get it all lifted into his arms, giving a look at Gwen, then left the room, grunting.
Art frowned. “I assumed those things were mixed with some other metal to make them lighter, but Uther seemed to have trouble lifting them.”
“Oh, no, they’re solid gold.” Gwen grunted crankily. “And over five thousand years old. They’ve been passed down through twenty of Master’s avatars-”
“Gwenddydd.” Merlin stared at her pointedly, and she huffed and looked down. Merlin looked up. “The point is, Master’s not going to be happy about us losing them. Which is why I left mine behind when I left.” He gave Gwen a pointed stare.
She scoffed. “I was expecting to be going RIGHT back. I was going to find you, get you to get rid of your Dragon’s Eye, and then we’d have ported right back.”
Merlin snorted. “Whatever. The bait’s been dropped, let’s get out of here.” He hobbled forward to the cell door and touched the lock. After a moment, it clicked, and the door swung open. He hobbled out and to the next cell, opening Art’s door, then Gwenddydd’s.
She huffed. “I could have done that myself.”
“But not as quietly.” He hobbled toward the door. Art grabbed him and helped him support himself so he could walk easier as they walked toward the dungeon door. It opened easily, and Merlin frowned. “He didn’t lock it. That’s suspicious.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Who cares, maybe he just forgot because he was busy trying to carry all that gold. Just go.” She nudged them forward.
Merlin snorted and started forward, following the path he’d followed three times before to find the stairs back up to ground level. His ears stayed on a swivel as Art helped him walk. As they climbed the stairs, he whispered. “It’s the weirdest thing, I can’t hear ANYBODY. It’s like they abandoned the castle with us still inside.”
“Who cares?!” Gwen whispered harshly. “Maybe they all went out on a picnic. Just GO!” She gave a push.
Merlin staggered forward, then stopped immediately. “I think it might be a trap.”
“You got good instincts.” A voice sounded from behind them. Uther appeared at the bottom of the stairs, and two of his men appeared at the top. “I needed to check if you ACTUALLY needed your staff to do magic. Turns out you don’t.” He nodded at his men, and they moved forward, trying to force them back down the stairs. “It was a good ploy though, pretending that you were helpless without your staff.”
The men grabbed Art and Merlin, and Uther grabbed up Gwen. “We’ll take them to the same room we took the wizard to last time, the burnt-out bedroom. Without a little BRAT to let them OUT, it should be enough to keep them IN this time.”
The men carried the three of them down the hall. One of them swung open the door and pushed Art inside. Uther stepped forward and pushed Gwen in, then turned to grab Merlin to shove him in, too. Halfway through the push, however, he stopped and abruptly pulled Merlin back, his hand shooting down to grab at Merlin’s cloak.
“This cloak clasp. Where did you get it?” He jabbed Merlin in the chest. He seemed especially angry.
Merlin looked down. He’d forgotten all about the cloak clasp in the business the past couple days. “He gave it to me.” He pointed at Art. “He said it belonged to his father and that his mother gave it to him.”
He stared at it, looking at Art. His expression softened for a few moments, and then he shoved Merlin into the room and closed the door, dropping the heavy wooden slab into place across it.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 12: My Son and My Rival

Gwen hissed at the door as it slammed, then turned to look around the room. It looked just like Merlin had left it, complete with the chunks of iron. It seemed like people didn’t come down here all that often. She stomped her paws over to the table and shoved it over, scattering bits of iron all over the floor. “Great, just GREAT!” She turned and pointed at Merlin. “You got us caught because you wouldn’t GO!”
“They were waiting for us, it wouldn’t have MATTERED if I went without pausing or not.” Merlin huffed as he climbed shakily to his paws, letting his short leg dangle above the ground.
Gwen stomped back across the room and put her finger in his face. “Give me the Dragon’s Eye. We’re going home. NOW.”
Merlin huffed and crossed his arms across his chest, bending his good knee slightly to put his other paw on the ground. “No.”
She hissed and grabbed for Merlin’s pouches, reaching under his cloak. He twisted to pull them away and slapped her hands. “Get OFF me!” He shoved her away, staggering back a step himself from the effort. Gwen didn’t move.
She glared at him. “Myrrden! Give it HERE!” She stomped her paw and stepped forward, reaching for Merlin’s cloak again to try and grab his pockets.
Merlin twisted on his paw and batted her hand aside, snarling. “I said NO.”
She huffed, her tail twitching irritably. “Myrrden!” She hissed and jumped for him again, then grunted when Art stepped between them.
“Can you two stop fighting for FIVE MINUTES?!” He grunted, pushing Gwen away. She only staggered back a little, and Art huffed. “You’re not making it any better by constantly being at each other's' throats, you know!” He glared from one to the other, breathing hard from his shouting.
For a moment, Gwen looked like she was going to strike him, but then she huffed and turned to stalk into the corner, grumbling. Merlin snorted and hobbled to the opposite corner, drawing his cloak close and leaning on the wall. Art sighed and took up a position between them, righting the table and sitting on it. “Honestly, it’s like you’re children.” He paused, thinking. “You… aren’t children, are you? You’re both adults? Honestly, it’s hard to tell.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “We’re both adults, don’t worry. He’s older than me, but only by a year or two.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you needed to tell him that part. Pretty sure he could tell.” Merlin snorted over his shoulder at her. She turned and stuck her tongue out.
Art rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to scold them, then paused when the heavy bar across the door lifted out of place noisily. The door opened, and Uther came in, slamming the door behind him and barring it from the inside. He looked around for a moment, then marched over to Merlin, snatching him and roughly dragging him over to Art before plopping him down on the table next to him and pointing at his cloak clasp.
“This clasp. The wizard says you gave it to him.” He pushed Merlin aside, almost knocking him off the table, and grabbed Art by the tunic. “That clasp belonged to my Igraine. I made it with my own two hands, when I was a young man! How did you come to have it? What gives you the right to give it to the likes of HIM?” He pointed accusingly at Merlin.
Art looked very much like he wanted to hide. “W-well, sir… my mother gave it to me, before her death. She said it belonged to my father.”
Uther glared at Art, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at him. After a moment, his expression softened, and he put his arms around him. “My son. My son. They told me you died at Martok. You look just like her, like my Igraine.”
Art seemed a little uncomfortable. “She… used to say that I looked just like my father. Er… like you, I guess.” He fidgeted.
Uther straightened. “Come, come, my boy, we have much to talk about!”
Art hesitated. “What about my friends?” He gestured to Merlin and Gwen.
Uther’s face soured. “What ABOUT them? I have plans for them, they’re going to get me lots of gold, one way or another.”
“Let them out of here. They haven’t done anything to you.” Art’s voice was shaky, but he tried to meet Uther’s gaze.
Uther’s eyes flashed angrily. “They performed the dark arts. They insulted me by leaving without permission. Worst of all, they entered my territory without paying the passing tax.”
Art sighed. “They were just passing through. They didn’t plan on stopping for long. Just let them go.”
Uther glared at Art, then stood up. “It’s a trick. You just wanted to lure me in with thoughts of being my child, my long-lost baby boy, so you could trick your way into getting me to let you free!” He stomped over to the door and lifted the bar, turning to glare at Art, then stepping out and slamming the door. The bar thunked into place on the other side.
Merlin listened to the sound of Uther stomping away, then carefully climbed down off the table, rubbing his chest where Uther had grabbed him by the cloak. “It was a good try anyway, Art. I do appreciate it.”
Art nodded. “So that’s my father. He’s a jerk.”
Gwen moved out of the corner. “Can we PLEASE bust out of here now?”
Merlin shook his head and hobbled to the outside wall, by the window. “No. Let’s wait until nightfall.” He ran his hand over the bricks, muttering under his breath. After a moment, the wall suddenly settled, the stones shifting as the mortar suddenly crumbled to dust.
Gwen’s ears perked. “Oh? Through the wall, then? Why?”
“Less chance that they’ll notice we’re gone right away.” He turned and hobbled toward his corner again. “Last time, we tried to bust out through the door, and they noticed we were gone before we even got out of the castle. This way, hopefully, they won’t notice for a few hours that we’re gone.”
Art nodded. “I dropped the door bar on the ground. I think that woke up Uther, and he came to check on Merlin.”
Gwen huffed and rolled her eyes, crossing to the wall. “And we’re not leaving NOW because…?”
“Because if we wait until they’re asleep and then GENTLY remove the wall, they might not see us leave. But if Uther’s smart at ALL, he definitely has a sentry on the wall. He’d see us leave in broad daylight for sure.” Merlin nodded, eyeing the table.
She stared at him, then grunted. “Fine. We’ll wait. It’s only a couple hours until night by now.”
Arthur watched as Merlin hobbled across the room to the table, then tipped it over. Gwen tilted her head. “What are you doing?”
“Do you have any candles in your bag?” Merlin asked, not answering her question as he started prying off one of the legs.
She sounded startled. “A- a couple, why?”
Merlin got the table leg loose and held it up, measuring it to himself. It came up to about his chest. “Because I’m going to need a cane.”

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 13: Escape to the North

Art frowned and watched Merlin diligently whittle away at the table leg. “What gives? I thought you were going to use magic to make a cane.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “His magic doesn’t work like that. It can’t do the job FOR him, it can only adjust a job that’s already done. So if he makes clothes, he can resize them to fit or even out the stitching, because he really does suck at sewing.”
Merlin glanced up and stuck out his tongue at her, then looked back down and resumed carving off bits of wood as quickly as he could. To his credit, he’d only been at it for an hour, and the leg was already starting to resemble a cane, with a slightly hooked top and a narrower body. After a few moments, he spoke, keeping his eyes on his work. “If I can get it roughly shaped like a cane, I can use magic to smooth it out and strengthen it. If I had more time, I could also probably use some of those iron pieces to reinforce it, make it harder to break.” He paused. “Actually, as a matter of fact…”
“I got ‘em.” Gwen jumped up and ran to the scattered iron pieces, picking up a few and tucking them into a bag under her skirt.
“Thank you. How’s our time?” He resumed carving as quickly as he could, defining the handle more.
Art glanced out the window. “The sun is going down now. They’ll be going to bed in about an hour, based on when they went to bed last time.”
Merlin nodded. “Uther will probably station a guard outside, so we’ll have to be quiet when we escape. It’s probably best if we replace the wall, as well, so they have to waste time searching the castle. If we’re lucky, it’ll buy us another half hour or so, maybe more if they try to find our footsteps.”
Art paused. “Footsteps? They’ll be able to track us! Uther has hunters, that’s how they get meat for their feasts!”
“We aren’t going to leave any.” Gwen huffed. “We can use magic to make ourselves untrackable. The spell only works for ten minutes at a time, but that’ll be long enough for even Myrrden to get away from the castle, so the odds of them finding the tracks will be tiny.”
“We used to use the spell to sneak out of the temple for a night on the town.” Merlin held up his walking stick to examine it. It was clearly a walking stick, though it was rough-carved, with bits sticking out and an unrefined handle. “What do you think, Gwenddydd? Good enough?”
She took it and looked it over. “It’s going to have to be. We’re losing light.” She passed it back and reached into her bag, fumbling around. Merlin reached into his pouch for a sheet of papyrus and his reed pen.
“The transcription should only take a couple minutes.” He tossed Gwen his flint and steel, and she set one of the candles on the stone floor to start trying to light it while Merlin started drawing quickly on his sheet of papyrus.
Art stood back and watched. Once Gwen got her candle lit, she used it to light the other four, then pushed two into Art’s hands. “Help me set up. Put those over there, and there.” She pointed at the spots and started setting down her own candles.
Art frowned and watched as she pressed the soft wax into the floor until the candle stood on its own, then imitated her in the positions she had indicated. Merlin jumped up and looked them over. “Perfect.” He carefully placed his papyrus on the floor directly in the center and placed the cane on top. It was quickly starting to get dark in the room as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. Merlin grunted and motioned for Art to stand back. Gwen backed off, pulling Art with.
Merlin closed his eyes and raised a hand. “Spirits of this wood, I call upon you, smooth this cane and strengthen it, that I may use it to walk.” He opened his eyes. They glowed a vivid lime green color, and streaks of lime light came from the candles. The cane lifted into the air and turned as the lights caressed it.
“This is going to take a while, and we can’t distract him while he’s casting.” Gwen whispered, pulling Art to the far side of the room. “That carving wasn’t quite the quality it should have been, so it’ll take a few minutes to clean it up.”
Art nodded and squatted next to her, watching in fascination as the cane twisted in the air, slowly becoming smoother and more refined. By the time it finished and dropped back to the ground, it was pitch black outside, the moon hidden behind some clouds. The candles blew out, and Merlin reached forward to grab the cane. Gwen started gathering up her candles.
Merlin took his flint and steel back and lit the papyrus on fire, watching it burn before the room returned to darkness. After a few moments, their eyes started to adjust. “Ready?” Merlin whispered, flicking his ears. “I can hear snoring, I think now’s the best time to go.” He pointed toward the wall. “Gwen, take apart the wall- QUIETLY. Set the bricks aside so we can put it back together before we leave.” He tapped her paws with his cane, then turned and did the same thing to Art’s feet.
Art gave a breathy gasp when he felt a little shock at Merlin’s touch, and he felt weightless. “You’d better help her.” Merlin whispered to him.
The next three minutes were spent moving the heavy bricks aside. As soon as the opening was big enough, Merlin slipped through, motioning for them. They spent another three minutes putting the wall back so it wasn’t obviously broken, and then Merlin motioned straight out. “Head for the treeline. Quickly.” He started hobbling that way, putting his weight on the cane instead of his bad leg. He could move surprisingly fast that way.
Art and Gwen rushed after him. He paused halfway to the treeline and whispered harshly. “Gwen.”
“I see it.” She whispered back and pushed on Art’s back gently.
It felt like a shove, and he stumbled. “What’s the matter?”
Gwen pointed up at the sky. The moon was starting to peek from behind the cloud cover. “After all that darkness, it’ll be like the sun’s shining directly on us. We gotta get to the trees before it comes out, or we’ll be spotted for sure by the guards.”
Merlin redoubled his efforts, practically jumping every other step as his cane touched down. Just as they arrived at the treeline, the area suddenly grew much brighter as the moon finally came out from behind the clouds, and Art grunted as his feet suddenly felt very heavy.
“Spell’s worn off.” Gwen whispered. “Where to?”
It took a few moments for Art to realize they were looking at him. “Oh! Uh… north, it’s north of here.” He pointed. “Just a couple miles. We should easily get there before daybreak.”
“Quiet.” Merlin nodded. “Uther could have sentries in the trees. Move as quietly as possible.” He pointed his cane, then started hobbling along. Gwen motioned for Art to follow, then took up the rear.
After about an hour of walking, Merlin nodded. “That should be far enough that we’re safe to talk. Gwen, give us a light.”
Gwen nodded, and a gentle golden light started glowing from her hand. She held it aloft and peered ahead. The trees opened up to a field; the moonlight revealed a tall stone building a couple miles off, with a massive steeple almost twice the height of the building’s main bulk. A fence went around it, a path led to it, and some stones out back were visible as tiny monoliths.
“There it is, the cathedral.” Art nodded to it.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 14: Sanctuary

The cathedral looked imposing close up. Merlin tilted his head back to stare up at the rugged stone bricks as they approached. There was a massive stone entryway on the front, double-doored and far larger than they needed to be. His cane tapped on the cobblestone approach. “Think anybody’s up?”
Art stepped faster to get ahead of him. “They leave the doors to the nave open, so worshippers can pray at any time, or travelers can take refuge from rain. Even if nobody’s up right now, we can still get in.” He tried the door, and it came open easily.
Gwen hesitated at the entrance, staring in at the dimly lit room beyond. “Will they mind that we aren’t members of their religion?”
Art reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her in. “It’ll be fine, they’re really nice. They won’t mind you hiding out here for a while.”
Merlin paused in the entryway to look up. He could see up into the steeple; wooden stairs spiraled up to the enormous bell at the top. After a moment, he moved on, stepping into the nave. It was a large room, with rows of wooden pews all facing a lectern on a stage at the back of the room. There were sparse decorations all around. A few candles burned dimly, with many more around that weren’t lit.
Art stepped forward and pointed at a pew. “You can sit there to rest, Merlin. They won’t mind us taking refuge in here until we can ask them to hide us.”
Merlin nodded quietly and hobbled over to the pew, hopping up into the seat and laying his cane in his lap.
“Hide you? From what, my son?” An old man with a bald head, wearing a brown, robe-like tunic entered, holding up a lantern. He squinted at him. “You’re very young, just a boy. You aren’t running away from home, are you?”
Art turned to look. Merlin and Gwen raised their cane and fist respectively, and Art glanced over and motioned for them to stand down. “The warlord kidnapped my friends and I to the castle this afternoon, father. We escaped, but we need a place to hide.”
Gwen flicked her ears. “Father? This guy’s not your father.”
Art sighed and turned to look at her. “We call our priests, father, and the monks, brother.” He turned back to the old man. “Forgive my friends, they are from a land far away, and do not know of the One True God.”
Gwen scoffed. “Just one? Must be the most overworked god I’ve ever heard of.”
The old man raised an amused eyebrow, then gestured. “Come, I can give you a bed. Have you supped? There’s nothing hot in the kitchen at this hour, but we have bread and water we can gladly give.”
He led them through a door near the stage end of the room and down a long, dark hall where his lantern was the only light. He walked slowly, watching Merlin hobble along. “You are hurt?”
Merlin shook his head. “No, just a cripple.”
After a while, the old man paused and opened another door, gesturing them through it. Beyond was a small kitchen, rustic and quaint. There was a firepit with a hole in the mantle over it for a cauldron to be placed, wooden countertops covered in jars of herbs, a small wooden table with six or seven chairs around it, and a stone box next to a drain, that had a tiny trickle of water coming from a vent in the bottom down into the drain, where water could be heard to occasionally drip. A water spout next to this peeked through a window and sat over a wooden basin, where dishes could be washed. He took a half loaf of bread off the counter and fumbled around for a clean knife, then reached into the box and pulled out a plate of butter, setting it down on the table. “Sit, sit, eat. I shall get some water.”
While Merlin climbed up into one of the chairs and Gwen climbed up across from him, the old man fished on the counter for a pitcher, then went to the wooden basin and held the pitcher under the spout, pulling on a rope with his other hand. Water poured forth, and he waited until the pitcher was full before letting go of the rope. He brought them the pitcher, then went and found some cups. “You’ll have to forgive my clumsiness, it’s been quite some time since we’ve had visitors here.”
Merlin watched the man with curiosity. “Are you alone here, er.. Father?”
He glanced up. “Oh! No, no, the brothers are all asleep. I heard the door open and came to investigate. I do so love to visit with outsiders. But don’t mind my yammering. Eat! Eat, drink! It is late, very late.”
Merlin glanced at the bread, then carefully tore off a slice before passing it to Art, who took a piece before passing it to Gwen. He sniffed at the butter, then took the knife and smeared a bit onto his bread. “Where we come from… my sister and I… butter is a sign of influence and power. I didn’t expect to find it here, in a place of worship.”
The old man chuckled. “Well… It’s a sign of wealth here, really. But we make it, the brothers and I, so we keep a bit for ourselves. We also give some to the farmers, since it’s made from milk from their cows.”
As they ate, the old man watched. “Oh! I’ve never introduced myself! You may call me Father Jacob.”
Art swallowed his mouthful of bread. “Mm. I’m Art. This is Gwenddydd and Mer… Myr… umm…”
“Myrrden.” Merlin spoke up, nodding. “You may call me Merlin.”
Father Jacob looked him over. “I know you. You’re the Wizard of Camello.” He stared at him for a few moments. “No practicing the dark arts in the chapel or monastery, and we’ll get along just fine.” He patted Merlin’s shoulder.
After they had eaten, Father Jacob put the butter back in the ice box and led them to a room with a couple beds. “I’m afraid this is the only room not in use at the moment, but you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to.” He looked over the room to be sure it was okay, then nodded. “I’ll let you get some sleep.” He turned and left, closing the door.
Gwen huffed and looked around. “We could be home by now, Myrrden. You just need to get rid of your Dragon’s Eye, and we’ll be home in seconds, like nothing happened.”
Merlin snorted. “I told you, I’m not going back. Ever.”
She stomped her foot. “MYRRDEN!”
Art sighed and grabbed Gwen by the shoulder, guiding her over to one bed. “Here. You get this bed to yourself, because you’re a girl. I’ll share the other bed with Merlin.” He grunted. “Mostly because you two won’t stop FIGHTING.” He helped Merlin into the bed, taking his cane and leaning it against the bedframe. The bed wasn’t amazing; it was a wooden platform covered in straw, but it had a blanket, and it was warm. He put out the candles, then climbed into the bed with Merlin. “Good night, you two. We’ll figure out the next step in the morning.”
“Good night, Art.” Merlin sighed. Gwen only gave a little grunt of confirmation.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Just a really amazing chapter you happened to put together for this story! You are doing a very great job putting everything into a gripping story!

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 15: Monastery

Merlin woke up when he felt a hand moving from pocket to pocket along his belt, gently moving the cloak out of the way as they tried not to wake him. He kept his breathing even and his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep as they arrived at the pocket that had the Dragon’s Eye in it. He counted back in his head: Three, two, one… ZAP!
“Ow!” Gwen jerked her hands back, then glowered at Merlin as he snickered. “A shock rune?! REALLY?!”
He sat up and refastened the pocket. “I had to make sure you weren’t going to take the Dragon’s Eye while I was sleeping.” He looked around. “Where’s Art?”
“He’s outside, helping in the garden.” She cradled her hand, rubbing it. “That really hurt, you know.”
“Then don’t go through my pockets.” He reached for his cane, then slid down onto the floor. “I said I’m not going back, and I meant it. I intend to live out the rest of my days in the land of Wales.”
“Wales?! Why- is this about that traveler that came through a few years ago?!” She followed him out of their room into the hall. “The guy saying that Wales is a land of magic?! Myrrden, that guy was a BARD, he was just exaggerating!”’
Merlin went quiet for a while. “I want to see the ocean.” He tapped his cane on the ground and pointed to a door that seemed to lead out the back of the cathedral. “Let’s go that way.”
“The ocean?! It’s water. You’ve seen water, we have water at home!” She snorted. “If you walked here, you must have taken a boat across some water.”
He shook his head. “It’s different. They say the ocean goes all the way to the end of the earth and beyond. Just water as far as you can see.”
She screwed up her face. “Why would you want to see THAT?!”
He sighed and shook his head, pointing toward an orchard with his cane before walking that way, leaning on his cane a little more. “I don’t expect you to understand. It’s supposed to be very calming. Salty water, and sand. Really soft sand, not like the rough stuff we had back home. And trees, grass… I just want to see it.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re weird, Myrrden. But then, you’ve always been a little strange.” She looked around. “Where are we?”
“The monks’ northern orchard.” Art approached. “All this land to the hill there is part of the church.” He gestured. “The brothers live mostly off the fruits and vegetables they can grow here, though they do trade for wheat and oil to make bread.”
Gwen put a hand on her hip. “The priests back home don’t HAVE to trade for their food. The farmers give it to them as offerings to the gods.”
Merlin sighed. “Clearly, the culture here is a little different, Gwenddydd.” He looked around for a few moments. “Help me find a fallen branch I can use to make a new staff.”
“You won’t find something like that here.” Art nodded. “Any fallen branches are collected to use for kindling. I can show you the wood pile.” He gestured for them to follow, then started walking back toward the cathedral.
Merlin hobbled after him. “How do you know so much about this place?”
“I asked.” He shrugged. “Some of that stuff is common knowledge, but I’ve been up since before dawn with Father Jacob, helping the monks. I figure, they’re letting us stay here, we might as well make ourselves useful.”
Merlin nodded. “That makes sense.” He looked up as they approached a pile of sticks. “This is it?”
Art nodded, then watched as Merlin carefully started poking at it with his cane. “... No, none of these are good. Maybe we should check the woods we walked through last night, see if we can find something in there.”
Art seemed uncertain, but didn’t say anything. Gwen spoke up. “You really wanna risk running into Uther’s goons just because you don’t like your stick?”
He shrugged. “As long as we stick near the cathedral, I think we’ll be alright. Besides, there’s plenty of places out there we can hide if we sense them coming.” He turned and started toward the cathedral again.
“Stop. I’ll go.” Gwen snorted. “I can walk, so I can be quicker. You stay here and think about going home, or whatever.” She patted his shoulder. “You little cripple.”
He watched as she ran ahead, then sighed. “Fine.” He turned and hobbled toward the monastery.
Father Jacob approached. “Hello, young Merlin. Are you settling in all right?” He paused, fidgeting. “Brother Adrian reported that Lord Pendragon’s men have scattered in search of you as of this morning. I fear for your safety should they find you; Pendragon is known to have a fiery ire, and it sounds like you’ve escaped his grasp twice.”
Merlin nodded. “He wanted me to turn iron to gold for him. It isn’t possible, and I told him that, but he didn’t believe me.” His cane tapped on the ground thoughtfully. “I suspect that he will not take me prisoner a third time.”
Father Jacob looked concerned. “You don’t think he’ll come here looking for you?”
Merlin shook his head. “We came HERE because he thinks Gwenddydd is a witch, and local tradition dictates witches cannot set foot on sacred soil.”
He frowned down at him. “I suppose that’s true. We shall do what we can to keep you safe and hidden, but know that should he find you here, we can do nothing for you.”
“Noted.” Merlin nodded. “If we think he’s coming close to finding us, we’ll make ourselves scarce, and move on. We’ll move on either way once the search parties diminish.”
Art spoke up. “Merlin needs to make himself a new staff. We sent Gwen into the forest to find a suitable fallen branch.”
“That should be fine, so long as you don’t use the forbidden arts to craft it. There’ll be no sinning in my monastery.” Father Jacob gave a firm nod and wandered off.
Merlin looked over at Art, then gave a weak smile. “Hey. How are YOU doing? It’s not every day you find out your father’s a warlord.” He paused to open the door back inside, then hobbled in.
Art shrugged. “It’s… fine, I guess. I wish he WASN’T a warlord. I wonder what happened to him after the war.”
“We may never know.” He found a bench and took a seat, groaning slightly and rubbing his hip. “The cane’s okay for getting around, but it hurts after a while. I much prefer the staff. I can lean on it without having to bend.”
Art sat next to him and watched him. “I bet. You’ve looked miserable ever since you started using it. Is it really that bad?”
Merlin shrugged and pointed his cane at Art’s feet. “Try taking off one shoe and walking around for a while. Maybe put something in the bottom of your other shoe to make that leg taller. You’ll get a pretty good idea of what it’s like to be me.”

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Behold, the Chapter of Unending Character Development!
Sorry about all the dialogue...

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Chapter 16: Carving the Wizard’s Staff

“Here, I got your stupid stick. I picked off most of the extra branches for you. You’re welcome.” Gwen tossed a large branch at Merlin with a grunt.
He looked it over and nodded. “Thank you, this will be perfect.” He put his hand under his cloak and withdrew his knife, starting to carefully peel the bark.
Gwen huffed. “You COULD just go home and have your scepter back within minutes. No need to carve a stick.”
He ignored her and ran a hand along the length of wood he’d revealed from under the bark. It was smooth and sturdy. “This is a good stick. You picked well.” He resumed peeling off the bark, looking over the size and shape of the branch. He wondered if there was enough wood on the thick end to give it a little swirl when he carved it.
Gwen huffed and stomped away. “Whatever. Just hurry up and carve it so we can get out of here. Master’s getting tired of waiting.”
He paused. “You spoke with her?”
She nodded. “Once I was out of range of your Dragon’s Eye, she was able to come to me and we spoke.” She paused. “She’s… not happy with you.”
“I figured.” He resumed working his new staff with his knife, carefully whittling a flat yet slightly rounded bottom.
“I might go so far as to say ANGRY, Myrrden.” She frowned. “You ran off without telling her. Without telling ANYBODY. You’ve been gone for months, Myrrden. Then you show up thousands of miles away casting magic and living in a horse stable?!”
“I wasn’t LIVING there. I was STAYING there.” He didn’t even glance up. “I was planning to rest for a few days, then move on. I told you, I’m going to Wales.”
She snorted, looking around momentarily before leaning in. “I’ve never SEEN her this angry, Myrrden. If she could find you right now, she would probably be… I don’t even KNOW what she would be doing to you. You’re in a lot of trouble.”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s never going to find me.” He turned his staff and examined it, sliding the thicker part up to his lap and starting to carve away carefully.
Gwen gave a frustrated yowl and stomped her paw. “You can’t just keep the Dragon’s Eye on you the rest of your life! What if it breaks?! What if you lose it?”
Merlin paused at that, then frowned. “I’ll just have to make some extras. Keep at least two on me at a time.”
“And if Master senses you using magic to make it, she’ll be able to find you again.” Gwen huffed. “Face it, sooner or later, you’ll either have to come home, or face Master wherever you happen to be.”
He seemed to think on that for a few moments, then shook his head and got back to his whittling. “I’ll have to consider that for a while.”
She stomped her paw. “Could you stop being so CALM about all this?!”
“What good would panicking do? It would make me sloppy, cause me to make mistakes. And you know how Mistress feels about mistakes.” He turned the staff in his hand and continued carving.
Gwen flinched, remembering past mistakes and their punishments. “Even so, she hates running away even more.”
“I had to. She was suffocating me. YOU were suffocating me. Everybody expected everything from me and I CAN’T BE THAT.” He looked up suddenly and eyed her. “Do you understand?! I’m supposed to be this all-powerful THING, the great Avatar of the Dragon, one hundred and seventeenth in a line of Avatars leading back all the way before they built the pyramids! Greater in power than all but the gods themselves! Advisor to the Pharaoh himself! But I can’t do it. I can’t be everything they expect me to be.”
Gwen stared at him. “I didn’t realize you felt this way.” She sat down next to him, kicking at his shavings. “You always seemed so happy back home. You had servants you could order around. We were treated almost like gods ourselves.”
He slumped a little. “YOU had all that stuff. You’re just the backup, in case something happens to me. Number one-eighteen, or maybe not even that. Remember, I took over directly from my predecessor, skipping over his backup. Master doesn’t always follow the same rules.” He paused. “The point is, you didn’t really have any expectations on you. You got most of the power, and almost none of the responsibility.”
Gwen’s ears went back. “What’s THAT supposed to mean?”
“It means you didn’t get constantly lectured by Master. Don’t overindulge in the wine, what if the Gryphon makes a move and you’re drunk? Don’t eat too much, you don’t want to have a full belly when the Gryphon makes a move. Stay nearby in case the Gryphon blah blah blah. I couldn’t do ANYTHING without Master having something to say about it! And the extra study, the fighting lessons, the constantly being WATCHED… Gwenddydd, I might have been IMPORTANT, but I was never FREE.” He put his head down and resumed furiously scraping curls of wood off his staff. It was starting to take form: Long and fairly narrow, with a curling twist at the top that looked like it was going to be some sort of figurehead.
Gwen put her head down and stared at the ground. “I… didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t ask, either. You just assumed I ran away because… I don’t know why you thought I ran away.” He twisted the staff to get at the back of the curl.
“Master said you ran away to escape your duties. I guess I never questioned it. Now that I think about it, it doesn’t sound like you. Not JUST for that.” She dropped to the floor and started scooping up some of his shavings, sweeping them into a pile with her hand. “You’re really making a mess, here.”
“I know, I’ll clean it up later.” He twisted his staff, then moved to the very top of the curl, starting to carve out tiny pieces to form details on the figurehead at the top.
Gwen looked up and watched him quietly. “What happened to you while you’ve been gone? For that matter, how did you even GET here? It’s thousands of miles. Master even said there was a SEA in the way!”
“I’ve been walking for two months. I had to go north, then east, then north again, before I could come west. I’ve seen a lot of places.” He examined his staff, then tilted it out and away from him to start working his knife on the top of it. “When I got here, my paws were bleeding from being worn down. I did get a few rides in some wagons along the trade routes, but never for more than a day or two.”
She nearly choked on her air. “You WALKED all that way?! MYRRDEN! What about your leg?!”
“I tried a few things. In Syria, a man tried strapping a plank to my leg to even them out, but I kept tripping, and it would fall off. In Macedonia, I had a cane. It helped, but I couldn’t go too far with it before it started causing pain. By the time I reached Sarajevo, I had settled on a staff. It was similar enough to my scepter that I could use what Master taught me, and there were multiple ways I could lean on it to help me walk.”
He smiled and twisted his staff this way and that to imagine his carvings. “I also saw some new animals on my journey. There’s a type of falcon, very small, that I’m particularly fond of.” He flipped his staff and pointed the top at her so she could see a falcon carved into the end of the swirl, so it looked like the twist in his staff was the falcon’s flight. “They call it a merlin.”

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 17: Ironcore

The crucible started to glow red, and Merlin leaned forward, carefully dropping in one of the iron pieces they’d taken from the room in the castle they’d been held prisoner in. After a few seconds, it, too, started to warm up. Merlin nodded his satisfaction and gripped the crucible in the tongs, pushing it deeper into the fire.
Gwen watched curiously. “Why are you bothering with the slow, normal way to do this? You could have that iron melted in seconds.”
He grunted, turning to look over the mold he’d made in a tray of sand. “I promised not to use magic while I was here. Father Jacob doesn’t like it.” He started poking in the sand, altering the mold a little.
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to TELL him. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“It’s not about hurting him or not hurting him. It’s about keeping my word.” He turned on his good paw and tilted the crucible a little, looking inside to see the iron. It had started to melt, but it still had a while to go. He set the tongs aside and glanced at Gwen. “You don’t have to stay and watch.”
She shrugged. “I wanna make sure you don’t burn yourself. You’ve never done any smithing without Master’s help.”
“That you know of.” He snorted and checked his mold again, tweaking it again.
“That’s the fifth time you’ve changed the mold.” She looked over it. “What are you even changing? It looks exactly the same as it did before you changed it.”
“It wasn’t even. It’s got to be EXACTLY even if it’s going to work, or it might be too weak.” He turned and grabbed the tongs to check the iron again, swirling the crucible. The chunk was mostly melted. He gave a satisfied nod and swirled it more, trying to distribute the heat to melt it faster.
She scowled and pumped the bellows a couple times to make the fire a little hotter. “You’re too much of a perfectionist.”
He rolled his eyes and lifted the crucible, tilting it. “Okay, get clear. I’m gonna pour.”
Gwen stepped back, watching Merlin spin on his paw and pour the iron into the mold in one fluid motion. The sand sizzled as the iron spread to fill the divot Merlin had carefully dug into the sand. Once he was done, he set the crucible back into the fire and dropped in another chunk of iron, setting the whole thing on the side, so it would warm up without melting.
The molded piece of iron slowly turned from white, to red, to shiny silver, as Merlin hobbled across the room to set down his new staff on a nearby table, slotting it carefully into place in a notch meant to hold tools to be hammered, then placing a heavy slab of iron on top. This done, he hobbled back, pulling his newly poured tool out of the sand with a pair of tongs and lowering it into a trough of water to be quenched. He held it under until it stopped sizzling, then for a few moments longer before pulling it out and touching it. It was still warm, but he could hold it in his hand.
He nodded and hobbled back to his staff, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to it.
The tool he’d just crafted was a long iron rod, half as long as his staff, with one end sharpened to a point, with a little twist in it. The sharpened end was pressed to the base of his staff, and he grabbed another device, resembling a hunting bow, but with the cord looser. This, he wound around the rod so that it went all the way around twice before continuing, which drew the cord tight. He started making a sawing motion, and the rod twisted, carving out bits of wood at the pointed end.
“This will take some time, Gwenddydd. Go be with Art. Keep an eye out for Uther’s men.” He continued sawing, pausing after a few moments to pick up a piece of wood with a hole partway through that he had carved earlier; this he placed at the back of the drill so he could hold it without hurting his hand.

Art looked up from his supper of stew to look at the monks’ smithery. A glow from the forge was still visible; he could see the silhouette of Merlin still working away by the fire. “He didn’t take supper. He’s been in there most of the day. Is he going to be okay?”
Gwen shrugged. “He gets like that when he’s working. He’ll be fine. I took him a pitcher of water and bothered him until he drank some.”
“What’s he even doing? I heard one of the monks say he made a drill.” He looked worried.
Gwen shrugged again. “Hollowing out the staff he just made. Not sure why.” They were quiet for a few moments, then Gwen stood up and grabbed Art’s empty bowl. “I’ll do the washing up. You better get to bed. We’re already up late because we waited for Myrrden.”
Art nodded and went back to their room. He lay under the blankets and watched the flickering light outside the window. He could occasionally hear noises from the smithery; clanking of metal on metal, the grating sound of metal scraping away wood, the huffing of the bellows, or the heavy sound of wood being added to the fire.
Just as Art was starting to fall asleep, or maybe even after he’d slept for a while, based on how Gwen seemed to just appear, already asleep, in her bed, a loud, rhythmic clanking sound started. He sat up, suddenly awake, and listened. It sounded like iron being pounded; he could remember hearing the sound often back in Camello as he passed by the smith there. He got up and tiptoed out of the room, finding his way outside and to the smithery.
Merlin was standing at the anvil, holding his drill with the tongs as it glowed bright red, attaching an additional shaft to it to double its length. He didn’t seem to notice Art as he watched him work for a while before he turned to leave, wiping sweat from his brow. It was hot in the smithery; he wondered how Merlin could stand it so easily.
As Art climbed back into bed, he listened. The clanging had stopped, and the gentle scraping sound had resumed again. He let it lull him into sleep.

Merlin glanced up as Gwen entered the smithery, then resumed using a rope to attach his staff to a table, upside-down but at an angle, so the opening of the hole he’d made was pointed upward toward his face. The wood was soaked, saturated through with water. “What are you doing up at such a late hour?”
Gwen set down a pitcher of water and poured some into a cup, thrusting it at him. “It’s morning. I take it that means you stayed up all night?”
He started to turn toward his crucible on the fire, then grunted when Gwen ran in front of him and thrust the cup at him again. He sighed and took it, sipping some of the water before suddenly downing it in one go and hobbling toward the pitcher for more. “I was working.” He drank two more cups of water quickly before setting down the cup and hobbling over to his crucible. “I’m almost done.” He tilted the crucible to look at the white-hot liquid inside, then carefully stepped aside to swing it over toward his staff. The wood blistered, sizzled, and crackled, threatening to burst into flames as Merlin poured the hot iron down into the hole until it reached the top, then patted the staff to settle the iron before pouring more, repeating the process until he was satisfied the core was solid. He poured the remaining iron into the tray of sand to let it harden before cleansing the crucible, dipping it in the fire to melt off the remaining bits of iron before dumping that, too, into the sand.
He quickly grabbed a hammer and flattened the rapidly-cooling iron on the bottom of his staff until it was smooth. That done, he signed heavily and sat down in his chair, grunting in exhaustion. “It needs to cool for two days before I can burn and seal it.” He fumbled for his cane, still leaning against a table nearby, where it had been forgotten while he worked.
Gwen sighed and handed it to him, helping him up. “You’re coming to the kitchens with me for some breakfast, and then it’s right to bed with you.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Just caught up on the previous chapters of the story that I didn't get a chance to read or comment on before and I have to say that it was definitely worth the wait! I love all of the development of everybody that has happened throughout the more recent installments!

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 18: Completion of the Wizard’s Staff

Merlin sat up in bed and blinked, rubbing his eyes. The disorientation from deep sleep faded after a few moments, and Father Jacob smiled at him from the bedside. “Ah. You are awake. I was growing worried.” He stood up and patted Merlin on the shoulder. “You must have been tired. You slept for nearly three days.”
Merlin glanced around quietly and nodded, seeing his cloak hanging on the bedpost. “I guess I was… Is Art safe? Gwenddydd?”
“Your companions are well. They’ve been helping as much as they could. They let you sleep because you were working for so long.” He looked him over as he swung his legs over his bedframe. “They took your cloak off of you because you seemed like you were too hot.”
He nodded quietly. “Gwenddydd and I are from the desert. We’re used to intense heat. But your smithery building trapped the heat. It was hot even for me.” He looked around for his cane.
“You’re looking for your walking stick. Your… sister… moved it outside. She insisted that even if you wake up, you are to continue to rest. I can get you food and water, if you desire. There’s a bedpan under the bed should you need it.” Father Jacob patted his shoulder.
Merlin’s stomach gurgled quietly. He put his ears back, a little embarrassed. “I… could use some food. Thank you…”
Father Jacob nodded and stood up. “I’ll fetch you something.”
Merlin watched him go, then reached for his cloak. He pulled it on and slid down off the bed, balancing on the foot that could reach the ground, looking around. Once he was sure his cane wasn’t in the room, he started limping toward the door. Without something to support his shortened leg, his movement was slow; he couldn’t do much more than turn on the spot with any speed.
He pushed the door open slowly, peeking into the hallway, then leaning on the wall to head toward the exit. He kept his head on a swivel, looking for both his cane and other people as he hobbled slowly down the hallway. He leaned heavily on the wall and opened the door, looking at the trees outside before stumbling through the door, right into someone’s arms.
“I thought so.” Gwen snorted at him. “As soon as Brother Thomas said you were awake, I knew I would find you trying to get back to work.” She turned him around and started walking him back. “No. You need to rest.”
“Gwenddydd!” He grunted, complaining. “I rested plenty! I need to finish my staff!”
“You worked without eating for a full day, then slept for three days. You need to at least eat and drink before you get back to work.” She pushed him back into their room and guided him toward the bed.
“I’m fine!” He grunted, not putting up much of a fight.
“You always say that after you’ve been doing something that makes you not fine. Your heart-”
“Is FINE.” He glowered. “I know my limits.”
She huffed. “Master isn’t around to heal you when you hurt yourself anymore. That’s your own fault, but… I still don’t want to watch you…” She trailed off.
“You won’t.” He grunted quietly.
Father Jacob arrived with a bowl of stew and a chunk of bread. “Ah! Young Gwenddydd! I see you’ve come to visit Merlin.”
She scowled. “No, I’m bringing him back. He tried to wander off.”
Father Jacob seemed surprised. “I was under the impression he couldn’t walk without his cane.”
“He CAN. Just not very fast.” She huffed. “Listen, Myrrden… I’ll let you go off to finish your project. I’ll even give you back your cane so you can get there. But FIRST…” She took the stew from Father Jacob and thrust it toward Merlin. “At least eat something.”
Merlin put his ears back and took the bowl. “Okay, okay, I’ll eat, I’m eating, see?” He scooped with the spoon and scooped some into his mouth. “Mmm, see?”
She shook her head and passed him the bread. “When the bowl is empty, THEN you can go back to work.”
He muttered something in his native tongue under his breath, digging into the stew. She scoffed. “Excuse me?! You talk to Master with that mouth?!”
He huffed and kept eating. “Slow down, you’re going to choke!” She glared at him.
He glared back and kept scarfing down the stew. Once the food was gone, he used the bread to mop up the rest of the broth before stuffing it into his mouth and chewing as quickly as he could.
She sighed. “I swear, when you get into moods like this…”
“I ate the food. I’m going to go work now.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, preparing to get up.
Gwen grunted. “Wait. Give me your bowl. I’ll take it back to the kitchen and then bring you your cane. STAY HERE until I get back.”
Merlin huffed, but passed over his bowl and spoon. “FINE.” His voice was irritated, but he didn’t make any move to get down. Gwen eyed him for a moment, then turned and exited into the hall, where Father Jacob was waiting.
“He seemed so nice not too long ago. Why is he so irritable and snippy now?” He followed her down the corridor toward the kitchen.
“He gets like that sometimes, when he has a project he’d rather be working on than doing anything else. One time, he worked for a week straight before Master made him take a rest.” She shook her head. “He was so angry when she wouldn’t let him go back to the project for weeks that she had to have the temple guards confine him to his rooms. He kept trying to sneak out.”
Father Jacob grunted. “I think you’d better get back to him, then.” He reached out and took the bowl from her. “I’ll take care of this.”
Gwen hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d better.” She rushed off to retrieve Merlin’s cane from where she’d hidden it, then rushed down the hall, arriving at the doorway of their room just on time to meet Merlin there. She scowled at him and pushed his cane into his hands. “I knew you wouldn’t wait for me.”
He took the cane and looked it over with a sigh. “I just want to finish up. It shouldn’t take long.”
She nodded. “I’ll go with you. I won’t have you working all through the night again. Uther’s search teams have been starting to get close the past couple days.”
“All the more reason we shouldn’t be WASTING time EATING when I’m THIS close to finishing my new staff!” He snorted irritably, hobbling his way down the hall and out the door.
Gwen watched him, then laughed. “It’s always funny watching you try to stomp around.”
He turned and glared at her, then shoved open the door to the smithery. The fire was burning low, and his staff was right where he’d left it, strapped upside-down to the table. He carefully touched the iron at the bottom with a finger, then nodded, satisfied. “It’s cool enough.” He set the cane aside and untied the staff, then suddenly swung it and held it over the fire.
“Whoa-! What are you DOING?!” Gwen stepped forward, watching the staff catch fire. Merlin pulled it out of the fire and turned it, spreading the blaze to the whole staff, then suddenly tossed it into the quenching trough. He waited until the fire was out, then pulled it out and started wiping it down with a rag. The ash wiped off, leaving the staff looking darker and weathered. Merlin hobbled over to the chair and grabbed another rag, pouring some oil on it and starting to wipe down the staff. It gained a somewhat shiny luster as he did. Once he’d carefully gone over the whole staff twice, he stood up and leaned on it.
“It’s done.”

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 19: Orchard

Art looked up as Merlin approached, eyeing over his new staff. “Oh, you finished it! Wow, that looks GREAT! You made that all on your own?”
Merlin leaned on a tree and held the staff out for Art to examine. He took it and hefted it. “It’s pretty heavy. Gwenddydd said you cored it out and filled it with iron. Are you going to be able to swing this like you did your old one?”
Merlin shrugged, taking the staff back. “It’s not so heavy that I can’t use it, no. In fact, if I have to, I can use it as a club now.”
Gwen scoffed as she approached. “Glad for you. Should we really be out here? This is right on the border of the monastery’s land. Uther’s guys have been sniffing around out here.”
Merlin shrugged and looked up, raising his staff to knock an apple off the tree he was standing under and catching it. “You worry too much.”
“Whatever. We should be heading back, though.” She eyed Merlin over. “If you’re done making your staff, we need to be getting ready to move on. Uther’s men aren’t giving up. It’s like they know we’re still in the area somewhere.”
Merlin nodded. “It’s been almost a week. You’d think he’d give up. Unless… you don’t think he’s got the roads out of here guarded?”
Art hesitated. “He might, actually. If he has men camping by the road, they could be hiding to watch for us. In which case, as soon as we try to leave the area, he’ll be on us again anyway.”
Gwen put her hands on her hips and glared at Merlin. As soon as she opened her mouth to say something, Merlin spoke up. “No. I’m not letting Master port us out of here. We’ll get out of this on our own.”
Art’s eyes looked over the two of them, and then he grunted. “What’s your aversion to letting your master know where you are, anyway? Was she cruel? Did she hold you captive?”
Merlin stared at Art, then turned and started hobbling back toward the monastery without a word. Art snorted. “What did I say?”
“It’s not what you said.” Gwen sighed. “Before he left, Myrrden had a big fight with our Master.” She gestured for Art to follow Merlin, then walked alongside him, her tail twitching. “Myrrden wanted to travel and see the world, and Master said he had to stay home. She said that not only did she need him nearby, but that she didn’t think he was capable of traveling. The next morning, he was gone.”
“That’s awful.” Art looked aghast. “He just ran away, just for that? I wouldn’t have thought he was capable of traveling either.”
“No, no… I think that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.” She looked thoughtful. “He told me the other day that he was tired of all the… um… expectations. He’s kind of an important figurehead back home, and it sounds like Master was putting a lot of pressure on him to be as good as he could be, all the time. A lifetime of that could be enough to make anybody crack.”
“I wouldn’t know. I live with my aunt and uncle, and the only thing they’ve ever expected of me is to turn up dead. I don’t think they really care what happens to me one way or another.” Art shrugged.
“I bet that feels awful, knowing that nobody cares about you.” She glanced his way, then ahead at Merlin. He was still ahead of them, but he had slowed down so they could catch up to him without having to jog. “I wonder if he felt awful, leaving everything he knew behind.”
“You could ask him.” Art looked over at her. “He can probably hear us, we’re not that far behind him.”
She blinked at him, then looked forward at Merlin. “Well.. I’m not sure he’d give me a serious answer. We’ve… never really gotten along all that well.”
“Really? You don’t say?” Art’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“Oh, har, har. You might have noticed, our personalities don’t exactly mesh. He’s a lot more calm and focused than I am. I tend to act first and THEN think things through, while he’s always five steps ahead. I think it’s because he can’t move around all that great because of his leg, eyes, and heart.”
“His heart? What’s wrong with his heart? I knew his eyesight wasn’t the best and I knew about his leg, but he didn’t tell me anything about his heart.” Art looked forward. Merlin didn’t seem to react, but it was possible he was listening to the whole conversation.
“Oh, his heart… He has a weak heart. I can’t count the number of times he’s overdone it and Master had to use her power to help him.” She glanced forward at Merlin. “I’m honestly surprised that he’s made it this long on his own. I didn’t think he could make it very long at all without Master’s intervention.”
Art looked her over. “He’s stronger than you thought, then.”
“Apparently.” She sighed. “I’ve been so mean to him, I wonder if that drove him away.” She put her ears back and looked away slightly. “I didn’t come to get him just because Master asked me to. I miss him. We’ve been together all my life.”
Art stopped and grabbed her arm. “Did you tell him how you feel? He might decide to go back if you tell him.”
She sighed. “And make him miserable? No. I’ll just have to go back without him, and Master can deal with it. Honestly, while Myrrden has the Dragon’s Eye, there’s not really much else she can do.”
He nodded and started walking again. “Gonna tell him how much you’ll miss him?”
“No. Very much, no. Like I’m gonna just hand him ammunition to use to tease me.” She snorted.
Art snickered. “Well... how about only when you say goodbye, then?”
She stopped and looked past Art, then slowly raised a hand and pointed. “Look. One of Uther’s search parties.”
Art turned to look, then sighed as he noticed the men on horseback watching them from a distance. “What are we going to do about it?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. We wouldn’t last long trying to take on a group like that on our own.” The horsemen slowly turned to leave in the direction of the castle.
“We’d better get back to the monastery.” Art suggested helpfully.
“Yeah.” She turned. “Quickly.” She started to run.
Art ran alongside her, glancing back. “How long do you think we have?”
“Until Uther can get his men together and get them here? Anywhere between an hour and six hours.” They caught up to Merlin just as he was entering the monastery.
“Uther’s got men out in the orchard. They saw us. We don’t know how long we have.” Gwen whispered to Merlin. He nodded back and increased his pace, his staff clacking on the ground as he rushed off to their room to gather their stuff.
Gwen turned to Art and put a hand on his arm. “Art, look… As soon as we get Myrrden out of danger, I’m going to head home. Take care of him for me?”
Art nodded. “I promise.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Been keeping up with this even if I haven't been commenting but its not something that is really my cup of tea. However I do really love how everything is going with it and the direction it is heading!

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Well then, you'll be happy to know that we're about to reach the story's climax. I don't have it in front of me, but there are, I think, 5 chapters left.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 20: Out of time

Art entered the room and watched Merlin hobbling around, collecting his belongings. Scattered sheets of papyrus, bundles of herbs, a packet of supplies that Father Jacob had given him for travel; all of it was stuffed hurriedly into his pockets.
“Gwen says she’s gonna leave us as soon as she’s sure you’re safe. Head back home. I thought you ought to know.” Art leaned on the doorframe as Merlin checked around the room for anything else that was his. He paused when Art spoke, then straightened up.
“She’s going to get in big trouble for coming back without me. It sounds like Master’s already really upset that she hasn’t already brought me back.” He turned and started toward the door. “Let’s go see if the monks can spare any further provisions. Maybe a water skin for traveling. Mine was lost before I got to Camello.”
Art huffed and followed Merlin down the hall. “Don’t you care? Your sister is leaving! You might never see her again!”
Merlin paused and turned on his good foot to glare at Art. “Of COURSE I care! She’s my sister! I’ve known her since she was a kitten! But we have, at best, half an hour until Uther’s men surround the place to keep us here while we wait for him to come for us, and we gotta be out of here BEFORE that happens! We don’t have time for emotional goodbyes right now!” He spun again and resumed clacking his way down the hallway.
Art sighed and followed him. “She’s waiting for us outside. She’ll be ready to go as soon as we are.”
Merlin nodded. “Wait here, this shouldn’t take but a moment.” He hobbled into the kitchen. Art could hear him talking to the monk that was in there, cooking up something delicious smelling for the monks’ supper.
After a few moments, Gwen came in and closed the door behind her. “Too late. They must have met up with another group and sent one person back to get Uther. They’re already surrounding the place.”
“That’s not good.” Art frowned. “No chance we’ll be able to sneak out past them?”
“None. They’re keeping their distance for now; I think they’re just watching to be sure we don’t leave. But there’s no way we’re going to get out of here unnoticed.”
Merlin came out of the kitchen and passed Art a water skin, strapping one on under his own cloak. “That’s not great.” He shook his head. “We won’t be able to sneak out if they’re watching for us.”
Art thought for a moment. “When we escaped the first time, you did that thing, that SPELL that made us invisible. Couldn’t we do that again and sneak past them?”
Merlin shook his head. “I can’t sustain that spell that long, and it only works one way. We could get past one guard, maybe, but the guard on the other side would be able to see us.”
“What about Gwenddydd? She can cast the same spell facing the other way and we can try to squeeze by.” He looked at Gwen hopefully.
Gwen shook her head. “Afraid not. I can’t do magic.”
Art seemed confused. “But… your hand was glowing…?”
Gwen shrugged. “My power is more of a… strength boost. When I activate it, it glows.” She shook her head. “Not particularly helpful here. More of a… smash your way through ability.”
“Oh…” Art nodded and glanced toward the front. “So… we’re saying that there’s no chance of us getting out of this?”
Merlin shrugged. “We MIGHT be able to talk our way out when Uther gets here. But we’re probably done.” He looked at Gwen, his ears back.
Gwen stared at him, then frowned. “You’re going to do it. You’re going to break the Dragon’s Eye so Master can see us and port us out.”
Art looked over to Merlin. “But then you’ll never get to see the ocean. You’ll never get to Wales.”
“But we’ll be alive.” He nodded firmly. “I’d rather not, but if there’s no other way out, I’ll do it. I’ll save it as a last resort. If I hold onto you, Master will have no choice but to take you with us.”
Gwen eyed Merlin thoughtfully. “You’d really do that so your friend doesn’t get caught up in your mess?”
“Of course.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Master’s never going to let me out of her sight again, though. Not for a minute. I’ll never get another chance.”
There was a pause while they all stood quietly, contemplating their chances. Art was the first to speak. “I say we should wait outside.”
Gwen turned to him and tilted her head. “Why?”
He shrugged. “First, it reduces the chances of one of the monks getting hurt from Uther’s men trying to come in here. Second… I’d like to visit my mother before we either escape, or your master takes us out of here.”
Gwen huffed. “Your mother? Unless she’s outside in the yard, there’s no way you’ll be able to-”
Merlin grabbed Gwen’s arm to stop her talking, then nodded. “You know what, Art? That’s a good idea. Let’s go visit your mother.” He gestured that they should exit through the nave, and Art nodded, heading that way.
Once Art was out of earshot, Gwen turned to Merlin. “What are you doing? We can’t go back to town with those goons outside.”
“His mother’s not in the town.” Merlin started walking, his staff clacking on the floor.
Gwen followed him. “Well, where is she?”
“Out in the yard.” They exited through the front of the cathedral, and he raised his hand to the men outside, who took a step toward them. “Don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere.” He followed Art toward the side of the cathedral and through a gate.
Gwen huffed. “What do you mean? I don’t see anybody out here but Uther’s goons.”
Merlin gave her a meaningful look and tapped his staff on the nearest headstone. “Do you know what these are?” He gestured to show her the dozens of headstones arranged in neat little rows throughout the cemetery.
She glanced around. “No. Weird decorations?”
Merlin sighed and followed Art to where he was kneeling in front of a headstone, then used his staff to lower himself to sit on the ground with his staff across his lap. Gwen approached, and Merlin gestured to the headstone. “Gwenddydd, meet Art’s mother.”
Gwen blanched, putting her ears back. “Oh! I… um… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… sound insensitive, I just… I didn’t know.”
Art nodded and reached out to touch the headstone. It was smaller than most of the surrounding headphones, and only contained the word “Igraine.” He was quiet for a moment, then started speaking to the headstone. “Hello, Mother. I’m sorry, it’s been a while since my last visit. It’s hard to get out all this way on foot. These are my friends, Myrrden and Gwenddydd, from the east.” He stared at the headstone. “I… don’t have much time. I found Father, and he’s… He’s not very nice.”
A twig snapped near the gate that they had entered through, and Merlin turned his head to see Uther approaching. He walked right up to them and knelt by the headstone, reading the name on it and bowing his head respectfully. “So it is true. My Igraine is entombed here. And you are my son.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

I think that this addition to the story was a really nice and pleasant to read as it gave everybody some character development in my opinion which I feel is needed. I can definitely see from this chapter that we are slowly heading towards the end of the story after everything they all went through.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 21: The Sword in the Stone

Art looked at Uther, then climbed to his feet and stepped back. Merlin placed his staff on the ground and began hauling himself to his paws. Gwen glared at Uther, moving around him to stand next to Art.
Uther took a moment to pay his respects before standing up and turning to Merlin, drawing his sword. “How fortunate we’re in a graveyard. You won’t have far to go.”
Merlin snorted and took a step backward. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t just stand still and let you attack me.”
Art ran forward and stepped between them. “STOP! Stop, you don’t have to do this, Father! Just let him go!”
Uther slapped Art across the face and shoved him aside. “I’ll deal with YOU later. First, I have to take care of this MUTT who dared disrespect me.”
Merlin glared and clutched his staff. Uther glared at it. “I see you’ve made yourself a new walking stick. It’ll give me great pleasure to break that for you.”
“I’d like to see you try.” He took a fighting stance, putting his short leg back and bending the knee on his good leg, pointing the top of his staff toward Uther.
Uther snorted and pointed his sword at him. “Try? Little mutt, I’m going to DESTROY you. If I just LET you disrespect me, my men won’t respect me. If my men don’t respect me, they could turn on me at any moment.”
Merlin tapped his sword on the flat with his staff. “If I don’t hold back, there won’t be anything left of you. Are you sure you want to fight?”
He glowered at him. “That’s assuming I let you perform your black magic.”
“I don’t NEED magic to take you down.” He scowled and lowered his staff some more, readying himself to fight.
Art stepped between them again and pushed Merlin back. “Merlin, no! You two don’t have to fight, I’m sure we can come up with a way to settle this without violence!”
Uther snorted and shoved Art aside. “What kind of attitude is that, boy? Never use diplomacy when violence can solve your problems.” He stepped forward, then blinked when Merlin wasn’t there anymore.
Gwen tugged on Merlin’s hand. “Well don’t just stand there and LET him threaten you, let’s go!”
Merlin grunted as he stumbled after her. “Gwenddydd! Gwenddydd, stop!” He pulled his hand free and stumbled to a stop, putting his staff down to catch himself and straightening to look at her. “It’s over, Gwenddydd. If we don’t stand up for ourselves now, he’ll chase us to the edges of the earth.” He turned and stared toward Uther as he started toward them, winding among the tombstones. He looked angry.
Gwen gave an angry grunt, her fists clenching for just a moment. “FINE. But if it starts to look like you’re losing, I’m stepping in.” She stepped back and watched Uther approach.
Merlin turned and met his eyes, glaring at him and gripping his staff with both hands. A moment later, he swung it up to bat aside Uther’s sword swing, then leaned back onto it and lifted his paws up to kick Uther’s chin, flipping backwards over his staff and landing on his long paw, letting the motion continue through the staff as it flipped back up and hit Uther directly between the legs with the hawk-shaped head. He set both paws and twisted at the hip, yanking Uther’s leg out from under him. The staff twisted in his hands, and he started to bring it down directly onto Uther’s head.
Uther’s arm came up just on time to block the strike, bracing the flat of his sword along his arm to protect the bone. His eyes flashed with anger. “Why you little mutt-!” He climbed back to his feet quickly with a pained grunt. “You won’t get a surprise hit on me like that again.” He readied his sword.
Merlin scowled and pointed his staff at him. “Try me.”
Uther stepped closer, watching Merlin shuffle backward to maintain his distance. He used his fighting stance to equalize his legs so he could move almost normally. His eyes remained focused on Uther. After a moment, Uther glanced aside and made a motion with his hand.
Merlin snorted and raised his staff to strike, when there was a shout from nearby. “Merlin!” He glanced aside very briefly to see Art being held around the chest by one of Uther’s men, a knife held to his throat. Uther snorted, then started to laugh.
“Now, are you going to be a good doggy and let me stab you, or are you going to make me hurt your friend?”
Merlin scowled. “Coward!” He put his hands in the air, letting his staff drop to the ground.
Uther picked up the staff and brought it down on his knee, flinching when it didn’t break. He slowly turned it to look at the bottom. “You clever little brat. You found a way to fill it with iron so I couldn’t break it. No matter.” He tossed it aside and hefted his sword to Merlin’s chest.
“Couldn’t even defeat a dog in fair combat. How sad.” Merlin snorted, scowling. He started lowering his hands, and Uther jabbed him in the chest.
“Stop. Hands up in the air. I’ll not have you doing any tricks.” He turned to his man and gestured, and he roughly started pulling Art along with him as Uther pushed Merlin. “Over there, by the fence. At that headstone shaped like a sword.”
Merlin grunted, tumbling to his hands and knees when he was shoved, then starting to get up. Uther’s foot landed on his back. “No. I want you to crawl there like the worm you are.” He looked over at Gwen. “You too, witch. Down on all fours and crawl.”
Gwen glowered and opened her mouth to speak, but the man who had Art pressed the knife tighter to the boy’s throat, causing him to gasp loudly. She glared and dropped down, her ears going back.
Merlin snorted and started crawling toward the indicated headstone, his bad knee halting slightly on every stroke. He tried to pause to reach into his pocket, but Uther kicked him in the backside. “No stopping! Just crawl.”
When they arrived at the headstone, Uther smiled wickedly and grabbed Merlin by the cloak, holding him up and pressing him to the fence. “Perfect. We wouldn’t want your blood to spill on consecrated ground. The poor monks would have to bless the whole cemetery over again.”
Gwen snorted and stood up next to Merlin, reaching across for his pocket. Uther swung his sword down between them and glared. “Again with going for the pockets. What’s in there that you want so badly?” He sheathed his sword and pulled Merlin’s cloak aside, starting to go through his pockets.
Merlin nodded at Gwen while Uther was distracted, and she clenched her fist at her side, ready to strike. When Uther opened the pocket that had the Dragon’s Eye in it and set off the shock rune, he flinched and pulled away. Gwen jumped at the man holding Art and grabbed the knife, pulling it away and starting to wrestle with the man.
Uther gave an angry snarl and drew his sword, holding it horizontally pointed at Merlin’s chest and moving to stab into him. Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, sure he was about to die, when he heard the wet squelching sound of flesh being rended open. After a moment, Merlin realized he didn’t feel dead, and opened one eye. Uther was standing there in front of him, his sword still raised, shock on his face and the pointy end of a sword sticking out of his stomach. Art was standing behind him, holding the sword’s handle and looking just as shocked.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Looks like Art and Merlin are going to be friends for life after this because Art just saved his life in a massive way. He had to kill his own father who may have deserved it but still its gonna be rough to deal with knowing that your father is dead because of you.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 22: The Folly of Dishonorable Combat

There was a moment that seemed to go on forever where nobody moved. The whole world seemed to freeze in shock. Then Uther’s head slowly tilted downward to look at the sword sticking out of his abdomen. He gave a wet choking, gagging noise, spitting out a mouthful of red fluid that ran down his chin and spattered on the grass, and he slowly turned around.
He regarded Art quietly for a moment. “It’s poor form to stab a man in the back, boy.” After a moment, his legs buckled, and he dropped, twisting to the side so he landed on his side, using his arm to brace himself. “Dishonorable little brat.”
Art stammered, dropping to his knees. “I-I didn’t… mean to, I just… um… I grabbed it, and I couldn’t let you hurt my friend… um… I’m sorry?”
“No, no, don’t do that, don’t apologize.” Uther muttered, coughing up another ball of blood. “When you kill somebody, don’t tell them you’re sorry. You did what you felt you had to.” He looked down at his belly, then struggled to turn over so the sword handle was facing Art. “Take it out, boy. You put it in, you take it out.”
Art’s hand shook as he reached, touched the sword, then jerked away. “No-! No, I can’t, I-”
He reached back and grabbed Art’s hand, dragging it toward the sword handle. “Do it, boy!” He held Art’s hand there until he felt him grasp the handle, then let go. “Now pull it out, nice and easy. Just the way you put it in.”
Art gave a little whimpering noise and pulled back on the sword. It slid slowly free with a sickeningly wet squelching noise. He grunted and stepped back, holding it pointed down at the ground. Uther flopped to his back and stared at Art, choking for a moment. “Good, good boy. Now clean your sword.” He gestured to the ground. “Always…” He paused to cough up some more fluids. “Always clean your sword when you’re done dispatching your enemies. Otherwise, it can rust. Remember that, boy. Take care of your weapons.”
Art hesitated, then wiped off the sword on the grass. “I’ve… I’ve cleaned it, father.”
“Good… boy…” He gave a weak smile. “I’m coming… Igraine…” Uther closed his eyes and stopped breathing. There was quiet for a few moments, and then Merlin limped forward and put his hand on Art’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just let Art know he was there.
Art was quiet for a few moments, then looked up at Merlin. “He’s gone.”
“I know.” He gently pulled Art away from the body and looked him in the face. “Are YOU okay? It’s not easy, taking a life.”
Art nodded, feeling sick. “I couldn’t let him hurt you, you didn’t even do anything.”
“I know, it’s okay, it’s okay. It’s over now.” He spoke soothingly, rubbing Art’s shoulder. “The other guys ran off when… it happened.” He hesitated, then took the sword from Art, looking at it. “Where did you get this? This isn’t one of the ones Uther or his men were carrying.”
Art gestured to the headstone they’d been standing at. The swordlike piece was missing from the top; all that remained was a polished stone pedestal with an anvil on top, and a hole going straight through the middle. His voice started to rise in panic as he spoke. “I grabbed it, and it just slid right out, I think it used to belong to some warlord or something-”
“It’s all right, I’m not angry at you.” Merlin stared at the sword. “This has magic in it. Weak magic, but magic.” He squinted at it. “There’s writing here. Very old. I don’t know the language.”
Gwen stepped forward to have a look, passing Merlin his staff. He took it gratefully and leaned on it. “This is the language of this region, Myrrden. I thought you knew the culture.” She rolled her eyes. “It says, ‘Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil is likewise king of England.’ What’s a king?”
Merlin leaned in. “It’s like a pharaoh. Art said they didn’t have one in this area.”
Art nodded, looking very much like he was going to be sick. “There’s been a few over the last hundred years, but they never last very long.”
“Well according to this… you’re the king now.” Gwen put her hand on her hip, holding the sword back out to him, blade point down.
Art shied away from the sword. “N-no, I don’t want it, just put it- put it back in the stone.”
“It is called Caliburn.” Father Jacob approached from the direction of the cathedral. After arriving, he reached for the sword. Gwen gave it to him, and he examined the blade. “It has been here as long as living memory. People used to come from all over to try and pull it from that anvil, but over time, its memory has faded. Nobody comes anymore. Nobody tries.” He holstered the blade in a sheath that he pulled from under his robes, then pressed it into Art’s hands. “It is yours now, my king.” He bowed.
Art fumbled with the sword, holding it out at arm’s length. “I-I don’t want it! I’m just a stable boy, I don’t know how to use a SWORD!”
Merlin’s ears twitched. “Let’s… put that aside for now and worry about more pressing matters… like what are we going to do with HIM?” He gestured toward where Uther lay on the ground.
“We can clean him up and give him his last rites.” Father Jacob stood up straight and motioned for some monks waiting nearby to come. They stepped forward and picked up the body.
Art swallowed. “He… He should be buried with my mother… his, uh… his wife. Igraine.” He gestured in the direction of her headstone.
Father Jacob put a hand on Art’s shoulder and nodded, giving a grim smile. “I think we can do that for him, Young Arthur.” He turned and helped the two monks carry the body.
Merlin’s ears twitched. “Arthur?”
Art nodded, holding the sword to his chest in both hands. They were stained with blood. “I go by Art. It’s short for Arthur. I never really liked the name too much. He… uh… he gave it to me, when I was a baby.”
“I think it’s a suitable name for a king.” Merlin nodded, then stepped forward, putting his hand on Art’s back and gently pushing him back toward the cathedral. “Come on, let’s go back inside and get you cleaned up.
Art took a few shaky steps. “I… I killed him. I really killed him. I didn’t WANT to…”
“I know.” Merlin glanced back at the anvil that had housed the sword for so long. “I think the magic I sensed in that sword knows it, too. It wouldn’t have let you take it if you weren’t worthy. If you had tried to pull that sword out with the intention to use it to kill, or because you wanted power, I think it would have stayed stuck in that stone no matter how hard you pulled. Even Gwenddydd wouldn’t have been able to separate them.”
Gwen scowled. “You don’t know that. Maybe after all those years, it just finally loosened up. The anvil’s pretty rusty.”
Merlin shook his head and took the sword from Art, drawing it from its sheath. “Look at it. Not a speck of rust, nor a stain from rain, nor even a tiny spot of dirt. It’s like it was just finished being polished a few hours ago. This sword is in perfect condition.” He sheathed it again and gave it back to Art.
Art clutched it to his chest again and followed Merlin and Gwen into the cathedral.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

And that concludes this story. Thank you for sticking with me as I tried out a different genre, and I hope you've enjoyed this retelling of the story of King Arthur.

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Chapter 23: Two Long Goodbyes

Father Jacob bowed his head, holding his rosary beads in his clasped hands. “We stand before you to commend this soul to your judgement, Lord, and pray that you be merciful, for your son did only what he thought was right, amen.” He nodded and stepped back to let Art step forward and place a flower on the chest of Uther’s body.
“I’m sorry, Father, I never wanted this.” He whispered quietly, then stepped back.
Merlin stepped forward next and placed a feather next to Art’s flower. “May Anubis weigh your soul and find it lighter than this feather, that you may walk the eternal path with your loved ones.”
One by one, all of Uther’s men stepped forward to leave offerings. At the monks’ requests, they had all left their weapons behind at the castle so proceedings could not be anything less than peaceful. Art, however, wore his new sword at his side, the iron glinting brightly in the sunlight.
Once everybody had had their moment, the wooden lid was lowered over Uther. He was buried holding his sword- a warrior’s burial, by Merlin’s reckoning, as he watched the dirt being shoveled over the casket. After a while, Gwen tugged on Merlin’s shoulder, and he turned. She gestured toward him, and they both followed Art as he headed back inside the cathedral. He seemed tired.
Once they were away from prying eyes, Art sat down and stared at the sword at his hip. “So… I guess you’ll be moving on, now. Merlin to Wales, and Gwenddydd back to… wherever you two came from?”
Merlin hesitated. “Actually… I was thinking of sticking with YOU.”
Art’s head lifted, and he turned to look at Merlin. Gwen seemed similarly surprised; her ears perked, and she tilted her head. “What?” It was simultaneous, both of them asking the question at the same time.
Merlin shrugged, tapping his staff on the floor thoughtfully. “Well… I’m supposed to be the advisor to the Pharaoh… but the thing is, the Romans took over six hundred years ago, and after the Roman empire fell, we haven’t really HAD a pharaoh. It’s been about a hundred and fifty years. If the tradition were going to come back, it would have by now. So, the way I see it… A king’s the next best thing.” He nudged Art’s sword gently.
Art blinked. “I can’t be a KING! I don’t know the first thing about ruling a country!”
“Sure you do.” Merlin smirked. “It’s not that much different than keeping Gwenddydd and I from killing each other, and you’re pretty good at that.”
Gwen snorted and turned to Merlin. “She’ll never go for it, you know.”
Merlin shrugged. “We could always ask her.”
There was a knock at the door, and Father Jacob stepped in. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I have a parcel for Gwenddydd. A young man, Lord Pendragon’s second-in-command, named Leon… He said this belonged to you.” He hefted a heavy-looking sack into the room and placed it at Gwen’s paws. “He also said that, at Young Arthur’s convenience, he would like to discuss pledging his loyalty to the true King of England.” He gave Art a pat on the shoulder and excused himself to attend to other matters.
Gwen knelt to open the bag, giving a little purr of delight when her gold adornments tumbled out. She started putting them back on. “You want to ASK HER? That means you’d have to break the Dragon’s Eye and risk her just porting you out without the chance to speak.”
“True.” Merlin glanced around. “But not here. I promised the monks.”
Gwen stood up, clipping on her earring. “Why don’t I go ahead of you and let her know you’re coming? That way, you get a chance to talk before she whisks us both away.”
Merlin nodded. “An excellent idea.” He walked with her and Art back outside, looking around, then pointed with the tip of his staff. “Is the top of that hill far enough?”
She gauged the distance carefully, then nodded. “I’ll motion to you when I’m ready.” She took off, jogging.
Art glanced at Merlin. “Are you sure about this? She might just take you away, and then we’ll never see each other again.”
Merlin nodded and took the Dragon’s Eye out of its pouch, placing it on the ground and carefully placing his staff on top of it. “It’s a possibility.” He watched Gwen reach the top of the hill and talk to the sky, tilting her head back. Minutes passed while she talked and listened to apparently nothing at all. After what seemed like ages, she motioned to Merlin with a wave over her head. Merlin nodded and grabbed Art’s hand. After a moment, he raised his staff and brought it down hard on the pendant. The pendant shattered, and Merlin and Art found themselves instantly in a room that seemed to be made of gold, with pictographs pressed into it.
A long, snakelike being appeared, long and green, with a yellow belly, two yellowish horns on her head, and an image on her chest, glowing bright green, that matched Merlin’s pendant. She looked very angry, crossing her arms over her chest as her body congealed into a two-legged one, still much taller than Art. She placed her hands on her hips and scowled.
“Myrrden, you have some nerve. Disappearing for MONTHS, then you send Gwenddydd to talk to me to make a request! And you have a HUMAN with you!” She scowled.
Merlin lowered his head and dropped to one knee. “I am sorry, Master. I needed to get away so that I might find a king to advise.” He gestured to Art with his staff. “This young man has recently been crowned king of the land in which you found me. I wish to go with him and advise him as he rules his kingdom.”
The dragon- for she WAS a dragon- looked Art over. She seemed to be considering it.
Merlin spoke up again. “I won’t make another Dragon’s Eye. You’ll be able to find me if the Gryphon makes a move. It’s better than being idle at the temple. At least this way, I’ll have something to DO.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “Very well. As long as you keep your word, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be allowed to live your life as you see fit. But if I sense that you’re planning on making another Dragon’s Eye, I WILL bring you back right away.”
Merlin nodded eagerly. “Of course, Master, I would expect no less from you.”
Gwen appeared at their side. “I’ll give you five minutes to say goodbye to each other before I put you back where I found you.” The dragon turned and stormed out of the room.
Gwen put her ears back and looked at Merlin. “... Oh… I didn’t expect her to say yes…”
Merlin shook his head. “Neither did I, not really.” He looked at Gwen awkwardly.
“Myrrden, I… um… I’m going to miss you. You know that?” Gwen put her ears back and her hand out to clasp Merlin’s upper arm. Merlin clasped Gwen’s arm back in the same manner. After a moment, he gave a tug and pulled her in for a hug.
“I’m gonna miss you too, you little brat.”
“Cripple.”
“Brute.”
“Nerd.”
They finally separated, and Gwen rubbed just under her eye with the back of her hand. Her gold adornments sparkled. “Maybe I can convince Master to help me visit. Or I can take one of your backup Dragon’s Eyes and sneak out like you did. I bet I can get to you faster than you got there.”
Merlin nodded. “I bet you could, but you probably wouldn’t learn as much.” She smiled, and then vanished. Merlin and Art were standing on the hilltop where Gwen had been speaking to the Dragon.
Art looked around. “Now what?”
Merlin shrugged. “What do you think? You’re the king.”
Art paused thoughtfully, fingering the hilt of his sword. “Let’s go talk to that Leon fellow. I’m going to need some knights. Maybe we can base up in that castle. We’ll have to rename it. I think Camelot has a nice ring to it, named after the town. But we’ll need a table to meet at. I’m thinking… a round one. That way, nobody sits at the head, and we can all be equals.”
“A great idea. We can go traveling to look for knights to join your cause. Then, maybe to Wales. Every kingdom needs trading partners, after all!” Merlin grinned and turned to follow Art as he started walking.
Art paused and waited for him, matching his pace to Merlin’s hobbling easily. “I bet they’ll remember my kingdom forever.”
Merlin laughed. “No chance. Can you imagine, a thousand years from now, TWO thousand years from now? They just tell stories about King Arthur and Merlin? People don’t remember things that long.”

The End