by Timothy Ray
They sat in silence for a few minutes. His fingers traced the new patch of skin on his chest. “How am I still alive?” he asked.
“We owe thanks to your fiancé for that miracle. Her quick actions and use of magic sustained your life long enough for one of our clerics to reach you and heal you properly. That’s why your skin is so raw. She stopped the bleeding and healed the wound, but didn’t know how to heal the internal damage. It was just enough though. If she hadn’t been there—,” his father trailed off.
Constantine coughed and patted his hand again. “Two Guardians carried you here while Willow came ahead to get help. They brought you in here and kicked me out; me, their King,” he feigned anger. Shaking his head, he went on. “Took them an hour to patch you up, John was about to rip the door off and demand to know what was going on when they finally emerged. They say you’re as good as new. You don’t feel any pain, do you? If they missed something—.”
Tristan shook his head. “No, other than some tenderness and a sore shoulder from hitting the ground, I seem to be okay.”
“Good, good,” his father said, then smiled.
What the hell was going on? He had seen Merlin change into a dog, was this him instead of his real father? Toying with him? “No offense, but are you sure you’re my father?”
The King broke into fresh laughter which quickly turned into a coughing fit. When it subsided, the old man shook his head. “Who else would I be? You are my son and you were just shot. You almost died. Can’t I be your father for once and show my concern without you thinking me a fraud?”
He sighed and looked towards the fireplace. Lajeer was apparently napping now. Wait, was that his dog or the magician still masquerading? “Father, I was on my way to see you when all this happened. Willow and I were having a picnic in the forest when a strange man appeared, asking for an audience with you. Claimed you were old friends.”
“Merlin,” the King spoke with a reverence usually reserved for the Gods.
“You know?” he stammered. How long had he been out?
Constantine sighed and nodded his head. “We’ve already spoken. If I had heard all this rubbish about the Phoenix rising from the dead from any other man, or dwarf, I’d—.”
“Have them executed?” he filled in with a raised eyebrow.
“How do you know about that?” the King’s voice hardened; grip tightening.
He nodded towards the canine resting nearby. “He told me. Said you’d been given leave by the Dwarven King to dispose of the poor innocent captive in our dungeons.” It felt harsh, but how else could he put it? There was no way to sugar coat what’d been done.
The King looked over his shoulder at the dog. “Your dog told you I did this? So, you speak to animals now? Are you sure the clerics did their work right? I could call them back in.”
“I’m perfectly fine. Don’t change the subject. What right did you have to just kill an innocent man like that?” he drilled, feeling the earlier betrayal rising in anger.
“If you were anyone else, questioning—,” the old man started but broke off. The King’s hands came together, smoothing the deep wrinkles, his brow drawing together in anger. “What would you have me do? You have seen and heard what that dwarf has done in the short time he was here; the panic he caused? He would not stop, no matter what we did. I was told he was beyond healing, that he’d remain like that forever. It seemed appropriate to put the poor man out of his misery. I’d want the same if it happened to me.”
“I could never do that,” he returned, his convictions evident in his voice.
“Son, I know I haven’t always been there—,” the King began.
He let out a quick snort.
“But let me give you this bit of advice while I can,” his father continued, ignoring the retort. “Do not be so quick to judge until you are in the same position with the choice in your hands. Until you find yourself responsible for the well-being of an entire kingdom, not just your own life, and have to make a choice between their welfare and his—do not judge. If you are ever in that situation, and I do pray you never are, think on this moment and then decide if what I did was wrong.”
“While you can? You mean before you ship me off to Griedlok?” he responded with anger. “You’ve been planning this for ten years, the day you finally get rid of me.” He could not help the fury in his heart. It had been held in for way too long. “Isn’t there a party scheduled for after I leave?”
Constantine shook his head. “I deserve it, I know. I have not been the father that I could’ve been and I no longer have the time to fix that. Arranged marriages come with the crown, my son. It’s how I met your mother. It’s how your own children will meet their wives or husbands. It’s part of who we are. Besides, I’ve seen you two together. I think I did pretty good, if I say so myself. If not for her and the wedding, she wouldn’t have been with you today and I might be burying a son, not getting chastised by one.”
He knew his father was right, about that last part at least. It still stung, the decisions that had been made and the hurt they’d caused. Still, his father was actually trying and he had to acknowledge that; to let some of the accrued pain go.
“What’s with this talk of how much time you have? You’re the King. If you wanted to spend more time with me, you could simply push the wedding back. She’s not going anywhere.”
“Yes, she is. And so are you,” the King stated, throwing his mind into confusion.
“What?” Since when?
The door opened and two figures strode into the room.
Willow and Merlin were in the middle of a heated discussion and suddenly paused as they found that they had two sets of eyes on them. “You’re finally awake, I see,” Merlin said with a smile.
Willow broke away from the mage and came to stand on the other side of the bed. Taking his other hand, her soft blue eyes greeted his gaze. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m confused,” he responded, looking to where his dog sat. That was actually Lajeer? Huh. He had thought— “What’s this crap about us leaving?” Merlin was standing at the end of the bed, a rib bone held in one hand, his staff in the other. He watched as the mage tore the flesh off the bone and grinned. Did he just growl with pleasure?
The mage chuckled. “Sorry. Sometimes things linger after changing back.”
“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” he asked, getting pissed.
Willow looked to the old King to explain, the heated glare she gave Merlin told him that she hadn’t liked the direction their conversation had been going.
“It’s not safe for you here,” Constantine told him after a moment’s pause.
His fiancé grunted. “And it’s safe anywhere else?”
The King struggled to respond. Merlin had finished chewing and he jumped in, cutting off whatever Constantine had been about to say. “When that assassin shot you, I heard a word in your mind, an old one, rarely used in these times. Tell me, what did that man shoot you with? A bow? A crossbow?”
“A flintlock,” he answered, not seeing the point.
“Exactly,” Merlin said as if that answered everything. What was the mage getting at? “Tell me how you know that name.”
“I’ve been in our vault and seen one with my own eyes. It was this old relic I was fascinated with when I was a child. I found it in a pile of ancient artifacts from before the war. The stuff with no real value other than the fact they existed,” he paused. “No one knew how to make it work. Obviously, someone found another one and figured it out.”
“Not another one, the same one,” Merlin stated, eyes fixed on the older man beside his bed. “Willow and I just checked the vault, it’s gone.”
Constantine’s eyelids drooped and a moan issued from his aged throat. “You let this man in our vault? No one’s allowed—.”
The mage nodded approvingly as it dawned on him what the man was driving at. If it was the same gun, then someone had removed it and given it to the assassin to kill him. But who coul
d have done that? It was so restricted that— “Someone close to us is working with the Phoenix,” he muttered with understanding.
The betrayal this knowledge presented was staggering.
The King squeezed his hand, eyes a reflection of his son’s thoughts. “I can’t protect you. I have to find out who it is and until I do, you’re not safe here.”
“So, I’m going to Griedlok then?” he asked, looking to his fiancé. The frown on her face told him he was still missing something. “Wait, you’re wanting me to go with Merlin, aren’t you? Why? How can you trust this stranger who shows up right as I get shot? You don’t find that odd?” he spat, eyeing the mage. He saw a flicker in the other man’s eyes and thought he might have hit on something, just not sure what.
“I had nothing to do with you getting shot,” Merlin informed him, the sincerity in his voice hard to mistake. “It would’ve happened had you returned as planned later that evening, my presence made no difference on the outcome.”
“You couldn’t protect me then; what makes you think you can if I go with you? What difference will it make?” he pushed. In his heart, he knew that the mage had knowledge of the shooting beforehand and had let it happen. To what end? How could he allow himself to be involved in the other man’s games?
Merlin shook his head. “The Phoenix has agents in this palace, on the castle grounds. They are aware that the assassination attempt failed and they will try again. Remember, she has seen us together. Now that she knows we’ve talked, she will stop at nothing to see you dead. It doesn’t matter how you’re involved, just talking to me was a death sentence.”
“Oh, thanks for that,” he rolled his eyes.
“My father—,” Willow began.
“Can’t do any better than Constantine could. If she has agents here, then she has them there as well. Until your father is able to root them out and expose them, both of you are in danger. I’ve been shielding us since entering the castle. Her agents may have told her you survived, but she didn’t learn it directly herself. I can protect you. I have friends who will protect you. It’s the only choice you have,” the mage finished, his teeth stripping off the last piece of meat on the bone.
Lajeer looked up suddenly, as if expecting the bone to be tossed his way. He was disappointed as Merlin took one last look at the bone and pocketed it in his robes.
Was it the only choice they had, or was it the only one Merlin had left them? He looked to his father. “You really want me to go with him? How could I do that? I’m needed here. I’m about to be married. Bordin will be expecting Willow to return within the next few days.”
“I’ve already sent a messenger informing him that bandits were found on the roads east of here and I felt it was unsafe for her to return straight away. He won’t put up a fuss,” the King responded.
“So again, I have no choice left to me,” he muttered, his earlier rage just under the surface, eager to break through.
Merlin placed both hands on the end of the bed and looked him straight in the eye. “You always have a choice. It’s your life. If you want to stay and take the chance you won’t get attacked again, then do it. I won’t force you to come with me. I’m only trying to save the world, you know. I’m sure you have better things to do.”
“Dramatic much?” Willow sneered.
“What do you think?” he asked her; ignoring the glowering man at the end of the bed. She had to be against this, it had to be what they had been arguing about when they walked in. Her’s was the only opinion that truly mattered to him.
“We need to go with him,” she told him without hesitation. She’d been on board all along?
He shook his head in confusion. “What were you arguing about when you came in?”
Willow stared at the mage and Merlin had a firm grip on his lower lip. “I was insisting Windel and Preik join us,” she stated, more to the mage than him.
“I agree,” Constantine interjected before Merlin could begin his rebuttal. “If I had it my way, you’d have a contingent of men accompanying you.”
Merlin looked at the three of them in turn. “Our group needs to stay small. Not only does it take more out of me to shield so many, but a large body of people is slower to move, harder to keep hidden. This is about stealth, not a show of force. She can’t know what we’re doing once we leave here. And with your security problems—.”
“They know how to shield themselves, they did so from your telepath, didn’t they? You’re so proud of that blind boy, tell me they can’t do it with her as well?” she blurted out before he could finish.
“Blind boy?” Constantine asked him, confused. So, they hadn’t told him everything. He shrugged his shoulders to show it was a moot point and the King let it drop.
Merlin ground his teeth, his glare icy and clearly displeased. After a few moments, he relented. “Fine, but if I suspect for one moment—.”
“It’s settled then, we’re really going?” he asked his father, ignoring the icy stares from the mage.
“Am I ever going to be able to finish talk—,” Merlin blurted angrily, getting cut off with a sudden knock on the door.
He wanted to laugh at the look on the mage’s face. Served him right.
Before someone could answer, Clint walked in. The aide was acting flustered as he saw who was in the room and he eyed the mage with suspicion as he moved to stand next to the King. “I had to threaten a trip to the dungeons to get in here, what’s going on?”
Merlin had his eyes fixed on the newcomer, the expression on his face the same as what he’d seen on Jared’s after they left the forest. The mage’s eyes turned to look at him and he shook his head; urging him to remain quiet. Merlin’s presence was supposed to go unnoticed—
“There was a reason for that,” the King replied hotly.
It stunned the aide and it took the man a moment to recover. “I apologize, Sire, I didn’t think this could wait.”
After a long pause, Constantine’s irritation got the better of him. “Well, spit it out.”
“The uh—prisoner was telling the truth,” Clint began, eyeing the mage once more. “An army marches this way. A scouting party has just returned. They barely escaped an encounter with an advance division of orcs in the plains north of Saspe’s Peak. John has called the War Council and has asked for you to join him.”
“Dismissed,” Constantine snapped. He wasn’t sure if his father was angry over the news, or the forced entry into the chambers. When Clint left, the King turned to look at Merlin. “Probably best to get moving; while everyone’s distracted. By now the whole castle has heard and the ensuing chaos might be just enough to hide your departure.”
“But father—,” he protested. He wasn’t going to just leave his father’s side at a moment like this. What if something happened to John? He was needed here.
The King glared at him. “You’re going.” The old man’s eyes softened for a moment, and once more his father reached out to take his hand. “I understand what you’re feeling. I do. But I can’t deal with this and root out a conspiracy at the same time. I won’t be able to focus if all I’m thinking about is who’s sneaking into your bedroom with a knife while you’re sleeping. No more arguments. Just do this for me. You worry about Merlin, you don’t need too.”
The King looked to the mage and saw the other man nod with appreciation.
“You know, I’m not the eldest of the two boys my father had. We tell people I was, but truly, I’m like you; a second-born. It wasn’t my place to rule. When I was a teenager, Merlin appeared to your grandfather and told him that my brother was conspiring with demons to overthrow his rule. These demons promised armies in support if my brother killed my father and assumed the throne. Then he would march on the rest of the lands and bring them all under the rule of one King; one tyrant. My father ignored the warning and was dead the next morning,” his father told him, a fresh bout of pain crossing the old man’s eyes.
“I paid heed to the mage’s words. Together we rooted ou
t and killed those responsible. This ageless stranger fought by my side and helped me overthrow my brother’s short reign. If he says this needs to happen, then I’m not going to make the mistake your grandfather did. I’m going to trust him at his word. And so should you,” Constantine added, then continued. “Now you have to get packed, if you’re well enough to travel then you need to get moving while you can. I,” the King paused, looking at the others in the room, “have a War Council to be getting to.”
Surprisingly, Merlin walked to the old man’s side and the two shook hands, then the mage helped his father to his feet. “It was good to see you one last time, my friend,” Merlin told the aging King.
“Take care of him. If anything happens—,” but the old man couldn’t finish.
“I will,” Merlin comforted with a sad smile. The King nodded, then slowly made his way out of the room. When the door had shut, the mage turned to face him. “So, want to get off your ass and help pack or are you going to sit there and pout?”
II
“You might as well get it over with,” Merlin told him a short time later.
They had just cleared the outlying settlements and were on the road to Crystal Cove. It had taken an hour to pack and make their way out of the castle. Arms sore, feet throbbing, he struggled to get comfortable on the worn saddle beneath him. He had spent the hour in silent contemplation; trying to work through everything that had happened since waking up that morning. It was a lot to assimilate and there were more questions forming than possible to ask.
Preik and Windel were riding ahead, acting like they were oblivious to what was said, but he knew their elven ears were straining to hear every word.
“You knew I’d get shot,” he stated. He already knew the answer to that one.
Merlin pulled up on his horse’s reins. He rode on a black mare they had retrieved from the stables and the wild beast was unusually calm as it came to a halt. “I did,” simple and to the point.
“And you let it happen?” Willow raged, his own fury mirrored in her tone.
